Venus
by Impiety
Summary: AU. Cloud is the city's most renown whore, Zack is a SOLDIER who doesn't know whats good for him, and Vincent is a drug overlord.Welcome to the city of Hope.
1. Modern Swinger

Hope I get in aWARNING: This story contains metions of sex and the sex trade, drugs, BoyLove (ohnoes their ghey

**WARNING: This story contains metions of sex and the sex trade, drugs, BoyLove (ohnoes their ghey!), crappy writing, Final Fantasy VII being used out of context, and swear words (OH FUCK!).**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own FFVII. –shock horror-**

Let me start my story by telling you the city of my youth. It seems a millennia ago I inhabited Hope. Although time is regardless here, the only thing you need to know is it was a time ruled by the four elements of corruption and terror: drugs, gangs, guns and money. Money, gil- there was always a distinct lack of it, and when in an abundance, was the root of all troubles.

In Hope you could tell no one your real name – and if you did, it was either you were being held at gun point or you wanted some cheap whore to scream it as you fucked her. I knew that well enough; my mother charged extra for noises, and even more if you didn't want her to pass your name on afterwards.

Not that she got much work in those last short days of hers, but don't get me wrong. She may have been a slut, liar, piece of scum; but she was still my mother, and in some way I think I loved her. I think.

You see, we lived in a two bedroom loft above a Wutai take-out store- the stench of oil and grease to this day still reminds me of home. She would have once been quite a handsome woman, but that's just guess work – the whole time I knew her she was always shrivelled and searching for a fix. Ah drugs; there was no shortage of those in Hope.

Ten years ago everything ran off Mako energy – until they found those nice mutated, animated corpses wandering around town. Now the green liquid (manufactured by god-knows-who) was little more then a cheap drug. The thing about Mako is its sheer addictive nature – one hit and you're its slave forever; it drains you, feeds off you... and you in turn feed off it. Whilst on it you feel super human strength, or agility- whatever. It differed for everyone. But most importantly- it was cheap, and you could get it anywhere. I remember the few years I went to school, the seedy dealer who sat on the street corner offering it to us kids. Hell – it was cheaper than candy, but it wasn't like we had money anyway. But the temptation was always there – waiting to ensnare us.

Officially we were categorised as 'Lower Class' a.k.a 'scum of the earth', and some days 'None-will-miss-them-when-they're-gone' – the Authority was corrupt as corrupt can get. But things seemed to be getting better- their henchmen, those who carried out the law, were known as SOLIDER, whose vicious tactics were often turned on the poor.

The most famous of which was General Sephiroth, and his second-in-command Zack Fair, but I think I'll leave them til a bit later…

My childhood was short from the moment of my birth til the age of ten as I sat watching my mother over dose on Mako on the kitchen floor.

All the colour in the room seemed to be bleached out by the fluorescent lights – their hum pounding in my ears. Everything seemed to consist of dull greens and flickers of sour yellow mixed with starched dirty white. In that world, nothing ever was clean…

She lay on the linoleum tiles that peeled up at the edges, dressed in her work clothes – nothing more then a skimpy top and a short skirt- no underwear, and I could see her nipples through the worn fabric. Her eyes were bulging, mouth agape, and I remembered thinking, 'What an ugly way to die…' but did not heed her cry for help. Then the thrashing started and blood trickled down her face from her eyes and nose- on the sides her ears too. She wailed – but no one would take notice; screaming was the neighbourhood theme tune.

And here the whole time I kneeled by her side watching her die with rapt attention. Not saying or doing anything – yet I'm sure tears trickled down my face. But memory fails me. The vial crushed to shining splinters in her hand – empty of course, with sticky green residue staining her flaking skin (Mako is most effectively absorbed through the skin – incase you're thinking of doing it… It's better to dilute it if you're new. Try putting it in your bath water). Then it all seemed to stop and everything seemed too real; the gleam of her blood and the nimbus of black hair that surrounded her head like a halo. I leaned over her, moving my hands to shut her eyelids like I'd seen those men on TV do… But then the thrashing and screaming started again.

Startled, I got up, grabbed my bag and that was the last I ever saw of 'dear mother'.

To tell the truth, she could be alive, but I doubt it. I've never known anyone to ever pump that much Mako into themselves and still live to tell the tale. It was enough to scare me away from drugs for months.

But before I forget – there is one key that sums up the few years of my innocence, Vincent Valentine comics. They were cheap – but in high demand. Few wanted to be SOLDIERS or Turks, but every young boy wanted to be Vincent Valentine. He was a real person, of course, not just a fictional character. He was a drug overlord- or so the rumours went. The comics depicted him as the 'Robin Hood' of Hope; a dashing, dark, mysterious one at that, he spent his time foiling and fighting off gangs – but never killing them. No- he believed in redemption, in being just; he claimed he didn't want to be the one to rob them of their lives.

To a ten year old boy living in slums after watching his mother die – Valentine was a god.

Don't forget that name. His importance cannot be over looked.

My next five years is regrettably a haze; being a weak person and living without a home or any kind of security lead to drugs despite my fear of them, but never did I once touch Mako. Never.

I was hooked on a substance that was known on the street as 'Materia'- a fancy name for a crappy pill that was only 1.5 MDMA, and the rest was up to the dealer (my favourite was the aptly named Blizzardaga).

Materia was never as good if you smoked or swallowed, believe me – I've tried it all.

What you need to do is get a good box cutter and have a steady hand, then cut a slit in your skin about the size of your pinkie nail or smaller. But make sure it's deep! Clear the blood out of the way- and voila. Shove that sucker under your skin and you'll be flying high like a bird for one hell of a long time. My arms were decorated by silver half moon scars, the stigmata of my addiction.

Materia made the world magical- every neon sign was your ticket to adventure, every smile your new best friend. And every morning a chance to start it all over again.

It took a while to get addicted, and my body hated me for it. Made my hair grow long, and caused me to get even skinnier- and when I wasn't high, I was depressed or angry.

I used to walk past my old school – a shadow of who I used to be, confused as to why my old friends used to gape at me, point, stare…

How did I get the money for all this?

Well, I learned just to shut my eyes... and got 3 gil extra if I swallowed.

Somehow I survived for five years – and then I hit puberty. Materia soaked my body and yet some how I still managed to grow tall and some how beautiful (beautiful… everyone told me I was. They always wanted beauty above all else, a concept that I am yet to fully grasp).

Money from giving head jobs in an alleyway seemed not to suffice anymore.

And the lure of professional prostitution captured me in the end.

The demand of beautiful young boys had no end in Hope- before I joined my first brothel, I had paid no attention of whose turf I lived in, who got killed, who to fuck and who to hide from.

Those lessons came hard and fast.

First off I was claimed as part of the Ifrit's property – they were rather small time. But it didn't take long for me to be noticed by bigger players. Notably the Bahamut's and Shirva's. And after a week of gang wars, I was part of the Shirva's.

When you're in the position where you're treated like a object... a desire, a feeling of terrible importance will come over you. I was young, I was naïve. And somehow I stood out among the other 'pleasure' workers- it took time, but soon my 'name' was known to all those in Hope.

I tried to control the men I was fucking. But that only lead to trouble.

Seventh Heaven belonged to AVALANCHE's turf, the owner of the brothel being a woman named Tifa Lockhart. I'd been won in a drunken poker game- an annual event between the numerous big time gang leaders in Hope. At first they had promised me a better life –which in my mind translated as less work and more drugs- but...

Ha! I still had to work hard for my food.

Before I started whoring myself out I was convinced that women were meant for me. But after I joined Tifa's fine establishment – I loathed them. The ways that they could control my body, the way they wanted to be treated like something special or pure. It was bullshit and also my job. Seventh Heaven was where I started fucking men full time.

It started out with just seedy rich business men looking for a root, until I worked my way up the social ladder. I was to become Seventh Heaven's most demanded whore- I slept with the countries richest and most important men… Generals, politicians, hit men and even mafia dons.

Did I like my job?

I can't say I didn't.

But I can't say I did.

It was just a job – I had no favourites, only sad cases that I had to make cum over my delicious teenage body. Men I had to pleasure and pretend to know their names.

I was good at my job. Very good.

Until one day.

As I mentioned – I'd never had favourites.

Until I met a very influential man, if that's the correct word. The kind of man that goes to an all male brothel just because his best mate and drinking buddy dares him.

This man happened to be a SOLDIER, first class no less, named Zack.

Zack, if he had not of been born of a rich family, probably would have ended up in my position. He was good looking, extroverted, eager to please and at this stage of his life, easily bullied into anything.

Tifa just told me that my next client was important, and I'd barely had time to wash the stench of sex off my body before he entered my room.

The layout of Seventh Heaven was typical of most of those kinds of establishments-

a long, narrow corridor with small sectioned off rooms with a corresponding curtain colour (mine was crimson), where we boys lived and slept – and there was a communal shower at the end of the hall. But clients never went there.

My room was draped in exotic silks and smelt faintly of sex and lavender – the bed a simple, thin double futon on the floor.

I wore nothing but a pair of tight jeans – it was the boy's first time, so I didn't want to scare him off. He was a prospect of wages after all. Wages meant drugs- and drugs meant the fix I was longing for, the fix that I'd been denied for the last day.

I seated myself on the bed, and thinking I had time, I sat on its edge reading an old Valentine comic that one of the boys (Yazoo) had lent me. It was novel – an amusing fragment of another life long since faded.

What surprised me when Zack walked in was not the fact that he was a SOLDIER, but his blushing face. It was almost enough to make me laugh. Shoving the comic under the mattress, I got up gracefully.

"Wow… It's not every day someone as pretty as you comes along..." I murmured, my voice heavy with seduction. But it was not a lie- his serious face charming and almost as 'beautiful' as my own. He said nothing, but instead looked down at the ground.

"What is it, pretty? Haven't you got anything to say?" The shy ones always had pissed me off.

I walked forward, looping my arms around his waist, moving my boy close to his.

"Come on now, how can we have any fun with your arms crossed like that?" His reply startled me.

"Uhh, sorry. I'm, well, er. I'm here because of a… um, dare. Kind of, you see…" he trailed off, not looking at me. The guilt and amusement in his voice was almost enough to make me snap.

Impatiently, I dropped my arms and flounced back to my seat, retrieving my comic in a very unprofessional manner.

It was not an unfamiliar situation – he would probably just ask for a photo now, or a card, then rush off to his SOLDIER friends and have a giggle. What I wondered was how he could afford me.

But all that meant for me was an hours pay with no work to do.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, taking fairy steps closer.

I ignored him, hating the silence, and hating the pathetic loser that wasted my time.

"Whatever, just get your photo and go," I hissed, my voice cold and my anger rising, the desire for a fix rushing as it growled and clawed for a fix under my skin.

He grinned and pulled out his cell phone, but then taking another look at me, shoved it back into his pocket.

He forced a laugh, "It's my twenty-first birthday, you see…" he started. He was young for a SOLDIER. "And my mate Reno dared me-" His voice was eager, as if he wanted to make light conversation... almost if he wanted to be good terms with me.

"To come here and waste my time and ridicule us whores, is that right?" I cut in and hissed at him as he took a step back, saying nothing but bravely nodding his head. At least this one could admit it, I remember thinking at the time.

"Sorry… Wh-what if we walk for a bit?" he asked, I stared at him. Did he not know who I was?

"My names Zack, by the way… You're Kitten right?" he said, shyly walking over before he sat next to me. I flinched upon hearing my alias.

"Yeah, whatever… Listen- no need to stay. You haven't hurt my feelings. Just get out…" Venom seethed in my voice, and I pretended to concentrate on the flimsy paper in front of me.

"Cool! I used to read those comics as a kid! They were awesome…" he said with forced glee.

I vowed not to kill him just yet.

"I used to want to be him, ya'know." The dark haired boy laughed as he said this.

I still continued to ignore him- my job was to fuck and groan at the right time. Not to have half-assed conversations with immature boys.

"And yeah… You know the shit thing about Valentine?" If he was expecting an answer, he wasn't getting one. "He's responsible for half the drugs in Hope- it's his fault the gangs rip at each other. And he's a fucking queer…" As soon as those words escaped the boy's mouth, I could see the wash of regret flow over his face.

At that I snapped, and before he could open his foolish mouth again I got up and walked to my curtain, opening it for him; I couldn't stand customers or anyone for that matter in denial of their own sexuality, or who made a stab at my own.

"The door is this way, Zack," my voice was cold and hurt. "I don't have anything to offer you, now kindly leave. Your time is up." He opened his voice to argue, but left silently, with out his photo or autograph, empty handed. Later I would wonder if his friends would ridicule him or not.

It would take months for Zack Fair to return to Seventh Heaven, and then weeks the second time... and by the third and fourth onwards, only days.

My name… is Cloud Strife, by the way. It's 600 gil extra if you want me to scream your name during sex- and 6000 extra if you don't want me to pass it on to Valentine.

**Its been Beta'd!**

**I'd like to thank the wonderous Anikky!**

**My parenter in crime.**

**Enjoy folks.**

**Chapter two is in the works.**

**3**

**R**


	2. Love Is Not Enough

EVERY DAY IS EXACTLY THE SAME

EVERY DAY IS EXACTLY THE SAME

(I always thought that Reno would love Alex De'Large from A Clockwork Orange. Not really as a role model or someone to aspire to… But as, uh, a source of inspiration, does that make any sense?

This would have been up sooner if I didn't lose this document… Anyways, I'd also like to thank everyone who has Venus on alert!! And my lovely reviewers… me-obviously,

YinYangWhiteTiger, LoLoChan, Stoic-Genius, Shadow-Kira-Kage, Heiri Sakura, and SleighBells!

Disclaimer: The following statement is untrue: 'I own FFVII'; 'Love Is Not Enough' is owned by NINE INCH NAILS.

When you're objectified nearly every day of your life, you find that everything will start appearing in a different light. At the age I first started to notice this, I didn't seem to care – but it eventually got to my head… What with everyone calling me 'beautiful', 'sexy', 'perfect'…

Words, letters; they crumble to reveal our own insecurities.

They give us nothing.

Nothing at all.

Time had seemed to stop when I was working at the brothel, but the beauty of youth is fleeting.

If you look for meaning in these ramblings – then I have none of any real value to give you. But if you really seek it, here it is:

'All beauty is temporary- don't be beautiful, it will only cause you more trouble in the end.'

No one wants to die without a few scars, but in my profession it's your job to keep them on the inside.

I told you that Zack would come back after a month, didn't I?

Don't get too excited. It hasn't been a month quiet yet.

Now let me make this perfectly clear, I _hate_ Reno.

I abhor him.

I every day I pray to god and beg that he would smite that red haired fucker down.

Alas, I've yet to get a response from the great beyond- it keeps going to message bank. It's enough to turn you into an atheist.

Let me justify myself. Reno (whose last name escapes me, and besides- it's a redundant fact I have no time for) is a Turk – what's the difference between a Turk and a SOLDIER? Turks are _mercenaries_; if you have enough cash – and they're pricey- they will do _anything_ for you. Turks belong to no one and can change loyalties at the drop of a hat.

They are the most dangerous men and women on the planet.

Except for Reno, who is the most stupid, self-centred, vain, rebellious fuck head that I've ever had the displeasure to meet.

He's the kind of guy that would give you CPR for a bullet wound to the head.

Our lives would become inevitably entangled in the end because of one event – Vincent Valentine was back in town.

For the last ten years there had been a slow decline in drug trafficking; this some people so ignorantly thought was a result in increasing law and order. Bullshit.

It was because said law and order had gotten rid of Hope's kingpin; Valentine had escaped from Hope and fled to Edge – rumour had it that he had connections with the town mayor Reeve Tuesti. And now he was coming back.

During his 'reign', the city was united under one gang land district, 'AVALANCHE', but since he left it had splintered; shattered, nothing left of it had remained.

He was coming back to claim what was his – bridle the rabid gangs and force them into submission, and win the city back from the SOLDIER's grasps.

What does this have to do with Reno? _Everything_.

During that rocky time in which Tifa got smart, everyone knew she had the best whores in the city. A rich tribute in a time of unrest. It would have been so easy just to pluck us away under the confusion that Valentine would create.

So she hired a band of Turks well connected with SOLDIER, paid them more then they'd ever seen, and then she ran off to kiss ass.

The one assigned to protect me, Hope's finest (and I will dispute that till the day I die) was none other then Zack's stupid friend Reno.

The morning of his arrival had been one of my worst for a while. Tifa had to take me off the payroll for a week seeing that my last customer had left dark bruises on my wrists; no one wanted damaged property – no matter how beautiful they were.

I'd been moved from my crimson chamber to the back room – and much to my displeasure, I had to share with Loz, Yazoo's childish half-brother.

Loz had been blacklisted as stolen material- Tifa had pulled some strings and the boy had arrived incognito three nights previously. He was sulky and kept wailing about his mother, but that was the least of my problems.

I'd had enough with the constant weeping of my abducted roommate and decided to sneak out to the bar to steal a drink whilst Tifa was out.

But I've never been lucky – as soon as I was in the foyer, she walked into the door – followed by four dark suited gangsters.

"Cloud! Good, I want a word with you," she intoned, looking at me with dark, greedy eyes. Before she could have her word, though, we were rudely interrupted by the most obnoxious looking brat of the lot. Goes with out saying- Reno.

"There was me, that is, Reno, and my three droogs- Rude, Elena, and Tseng, and –" he bellowed at me with a grin the size of… Best not go there. Thankfully before he could finish ruining one of the most classic films of all time, he was interrupted by one of his comrades – a scary looking woman.

"Enough, Reno! Sorry, ma'am, I am here to inform you that we will –"

I think that's enough to make my point clear. You can guess the rest. Elena tried to persuade a most doubtful Tifa (and succeeded) as to just how _genuine_ they were.

Tseng and Elena didn't stay of course, just Reno and Rude. The two well dressed superiors had other duties that would keep them out of Seventh Heaven for a while.

The night Reno sat out side my door all night humming Beatles songs under his breath (hardly within the job requirement), Loz whimpered and I cursed under my breath at the injustice of it all.

The next day I started work again.

It's not so hard. And I would never turn a man down.

Swish – my curtain would fall.

Insert groan. Insert seduction.

Shower, rinse, rise, repeat.

Show time.

My curtain would fall.

Insert objectification.

Insert humiliation.

And all the while Reno would just sit there – looking bored.

Insert in-flight entertainment.

Most of the time the other Turk (Rude) would talk to him (if you could count monotone grunts as speech), and that dumb red head would chatter like an eight year old.

"Yo, this," "Fuck that".

Insert mute button.

My last customer of the day was none other then Don Armidalio. That fat bastard was bigger then two semi trailers.

He'd never touch me – not once, thank god, but he always came up with new and sick ways to degrade me. This time I had been wrapped in thick golden ribbons – tied so they tightened with each movement I made. I looked so alluring – half god, half mortal, bound in what looked like my own locks. And then I was told to dance.

I've never felt more animalistic nor been able to recapture the rhythm I found that day. The music was erratic and sensual, wild and yet heart wrenchingly sad.

And the more and more I moved, my bonds tightened, and he just sat there, the fat piece of scum. With his massive hard-on, beating off to me while feeding himself his greasy food thick with batter. The way he looked at me – it was like I was nothing more then a piece of food. The stench of it made me choke, reminding me of home. Well – the fairy tale home I'd once belonged to.

Once upon a time.

I kept on dancing till the ribbons on my chest were bound so tight I couldn't breathe, my joints locking, my body falling to the floor. My ties were no longer gold but stained grey from the sweat that soaked them, my skin glittered with the leaking pigment.

The Don_ came_ to the sounds of my strangled gasps.

He left without touching me. Tifa keeps telling me to be honoured. Don Armidalio was an _artist_, and I was his _muse_.

Ironically, it was Reno who freed me, sliding his pocket blade through the ribbons that held me in their bone crushing fibers.

I didn't even speak to him, I just rushed to the bathroom. I, as of that point, have never spoken to the red head.

I had been making my way back to my chamber when I saw a familiar face beside Reno's, grinning from his seat on the floor by my curtain.

Reno went silent.

Before you ask:

No, it had not been a month yet.

No, he wasn't there to see me. Well – he had not made himself clear on that subject, to be honest.

No, he was not dating that obnoxious redhead (the mere thought is repulsive.)

If you're wondering how that sly SOLDIER got it, the time was one minute to one (am) and all customers for myself and the rest of the boys had finished. And Tifa was most likely kissing butt with other members of the ganglands… but I'll indulge you with that story later. Zack had simply missed his curfew at the barracks and found himself homeless for the night.

What an unlikely story.

Their conversation ended ebruptly as they saw me – a modern day Adonis – clad only in a towel, dripping. The SOLDIER blushed.

The clock struck one am, and a resounding ring ran through Seventh Heaven.

Time's up.

Insert irony

.

Zack smiled.

"I wanted to see you… to apologise."

Month's up.

--

And so is this fic.

Review! Tell me if you think its crap or not. Ehh. I don't like it.

Next chapter will be easier to write.

Cloud has been avoiding the subject of his personality a bit.

So you'll get to know him better.

And Zack is meant to be OOC for the moment. You'll see why. Ah yes, Vinnie and Sephy are coming. Just wait.


	3. Sooner Or Later

(So sue me. I want you all to get to know Cloud a bit better. He's a nihilistic little fucker, but I love him all the same. This was such a fun chapter to write! The last was so horribly disjointed. I'm so blatantly ripping off Chuck Palahniuk's writing style here and failing…

**Love and thanks to:**

_Ardwynna Morrigu:_ -bows- I'm a massive fan of your writing –awed- I can't believe that you've take interest in this silly piece of prose. Thank you so much for the encouragement!

_SleighBells:_ I'm sorry I'm such a slow brat at updating… I really am! I really enjoy your stories too.

_LoLoChan:_ Thank you for Reeve's last name, I was silly for forgetting to edit that.

–hugs- You're a life saver!

_YinYangWhiteTiger:_ Wow, that's a cool little phrase! Do you mind if I borrow that in one chapter? And thank you sooo much for reviewing again.

_Stoic-Genius:_ I promise you that I'll treat all characters fairly, Cloud is just a little bit judgemental when it comes to meeting new people --;; Pain in the butt as always.

_And everyone who has faved this and has me on alert. You make me feel famous XD_

**Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII. And it breaks my heart.**)

There are many aspects that make up a comic book.

Plot, character, setting, the protagonist, the antagonist, the mandatory love interest. The strength to prevail… The deadly flaw.

In Seventh Heaven we all had alias's of famous damsels or vixens.

_This is all just a form of escapism. _

Yazoo was Dorian Grey, Nero was Mary Jane, Demyx was Marilyn. I called myself Kitten; I guess _men_ just found that _endearing_.

Ten points if you can tell me where they got those names from…

Every time that little black and white paper Vincent would fall back to lick his wounds the Kitten, the hidden embodiment of all his sexuality, would be there.

I'm talking about comic books, of course.

The image of lust and androgyny. Always in the shadows, the perfect seductress and not once did you see the Kitten's face. I guess_ I _found that _endearing_.

_When everything is out of control, just substitute the world for your own reality._

That's why I was the Kitten, my innocent coy persona held onto a childish concept of kindness, salvation, redemption. Every time I fucked a client, I became a little less of Cloud and little more of a fictional character. So _sue _me, I'm a hopeless romantic.

Why did I need this image to keep myself sane?

_It's all a game. Don't worry._

I don't know, do I look like a psychologist? Fuck no.

_It's all a game._

But I am a procrastinator. So maybe I should give you all what you're waiting for…

A wise man once said:

'_I think, therefore I am,_'

Ten points if you know that man's name.

With that sentence I disproved Reno's entire existence; yes, my esteemed and treasured readers, it was that easy. My red haired nemesis (I lament at the one-sidedness) did not _think_, therefore he _did not_. Now on your left you see Zack looking like a particular ugly juxtaposition in this house of sin, now look to your right and you'll see me. You'll see my upper lip curling into a snarl that makes me look like a chocobo with Down Syndrome.

"What the fuck do _you _want?" I spat at him. The compromising position multiplied by dislike equals dynamite.

Reno started to laughing much like a certain African mammal.

"Oh my god ZACK, YOU GOT BURNED! Want some sunscreen, yo?" He giggled.

Wait, sunscreen? Let as call this example numero uno. But I was not alone in picking up his stupidity. Zack mirrored my response with a bewildered, "What the fuck?" and began laughing. "Why would I want sunscreen _after_ I've been burnt? Shouldn't you like… recommend some aloe vera or something?"

Rewind, ten points if you know who is almost as stupid as Reno. I should have just left them there, bickering over childish calls and insults, but ever the fool, I stood there like a deer trapped in a particularly idiotic pair of headlights. I think it would only cause further loss of brain cells should I repeat their argument, so let's fast-forward.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, THE PAIR OF YOU!" I screamed, several heads revealed themselves behind curtained doorways as they sniggered. Nero and Yazoo had a running bet as to when I would 'lose my cool' at Reno. Nero won for once; one and a half days is a long time for me.

"Whoa, you're such a princess…" Reno said sullenly. I replied with a scowl, placing one hand on my hip, my other curling into a fist by my side. "Yo Zack, 'e reminds me of your ex, Aerith. Hahahaha… What a turbo bitch man!"

Zack cocked his head and observed me through violet eyes that were creepy as all hell.

Ten points to you in the back row, you are one hundred and ten percent right, Zack is short sighted- he wears contacts. I'll save that argument for every time he calls _me_ vain.

"Mm… Naw. More of a princess; the bitchy-ness is a complete act," he observed.

"No way, man! This kid is more of a prima-donna than my mom, yo." Reno said dryly.

Zack just winked at me.

"Pfft, my time is your gil, _boys_," I hissed.

"HA! HA! See, turbo bitch! He's charging us now for his mere presence, yo!" Reno roared with laughed, joined in by Zack and chorused by the boys listening from their rooms. Damn straight I was… But no one likes to be belittled.

"Fuck. You. BOTH!" I yelled in my most high-pitched voice yet. Who did they think they were? Better than me obviously.

Time for some home-brewed sociology… Men like dominating each other. It's Human Nature 101: what better example than two overly masculine creatures picking one overly effeminate teenager (if only in looks) for dominance. My name may have been Kitten, but I definitely wasn't one. More like a sabre-toothed tiger, or a wolf.

"Yeah, definitely Aerith. You were right. Sounds like her after she found out that we both knew that she was dating us both. Damn that plan failed… So much for the threesome." Zack chuckled. I should have just shut up and went back to my room, but I was too arrogant. I wanted to stay and argue with these two over-grown brats.

"Fersure, man! Hey, Princess? Want a threesome?" Reno was an idiot.

"If you're looking for fast and cheap, be prepared for disappointment, cockbite!" I howled; is now a good time to add that I have an _extremely _short temper. My hand left my hip and balled into a second fist. "And DO NOT fucking call me Princess!"

"Mmm, cockbite- that's a new one." Reno snicked. "Yo Princess again with the cash, I believe if you want something in life, you gotta-" he reached out his hand to my chin "-and take it!" He made a snatch at it.

Don't get the situation wrong- if Reno had touched me, he'd be dead three times before he touched the ground by the time Tifa got back. Ten points if you guessed that this is Reno's idea of a joke.

"IAMGOINGTOKILLYOU!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, the redhead just standing back against the wall smirking.

"Go ahead, Princess."

I leapt at him, but as soon as the balls of my feet left the ground I was jerked back. It happened so fast! Reno leapt into a defensive stance, ramming out his EMI from the elastic band of his pants, the EMI crackling with enough volts to kill a cat. It was Zack who had grabbed me and looped his pointer finger and thumb around my narrow wrists and gently pulled me back away from a beating. I fell into his sturdy chest.

He sighed.

"Well, that was a close one… Reno, put the rod away. NOW! Calm down, Princess, you don't want to ruin that face of yours," He said with good nature. I was still fuming and ripped myself from his chest; I hated being manhandled. I then checked my wrists for bruising, and there were none despite the fact that I bruise like a peach.

"I-"

My statement (whatever it may have been) was interrupted- enter Yazoo. The definition of all beauty. The boy is more ruined than anyone else in Seventh Heaven. Prostitution completely tore up his self-wealth, and he was shadowed by Rude who was specifically hired to make sure he didn't try and 'damage' himself again. I would call it _escapism_, the central theme of my life. He walked in floating on the carpet like a god; he made no sound except a small cough that escaped his lips.

"You okay Cloud?" He asked softly. One upon a time he was more arrogant than even Reno (who had perked his ears at Yazoo and his nimbus of beautiful silver hair), but some things just change you. Bonds can wear away your spirit or nurse it to such great highs that you'd never even know you could grow to. It only works one way or the other. Nothing is static.

I smiled weakly and nodded, still glaring at Reno who was watching Yazoo with rapture. The poor boy coughed again and Rude shuffled nervously behind him, looking from Reno to Zack. Yazoo proceeded on, but not before giving Zack once last stare and half whispering,

"Cloud needs to be looked after, so make sure you can keep up with him."

You can imagine my reaction! So he thought we had something going on eh? What had Rude and Reno been gossiping about behind my back?

Silver hair, green cat-pupil eyes, once glazed; you know that he's a carrier of Geostigma. Let me get this clear, there are two strains: Geostigma ALPHA, meaning that in four to eight weeks you'll find your body growing weak… In two to twelve years your sex drive is gone and you'll start to develop a black rash that oozes a puss that smells faintly of lilies... It'll spread erratically – one week you'll only have it on your toes, the next it will be all over waist down. You haven't got much longer to go buddy, so don't even bother counting the days. Then there's Geostigma BETA; you're born with it – the likely chance is your mother had it, so you're naturally immune – but here's the catch – you're a carrier. Who ever you fuck, ha. They're fucked. It's spread via spit, semen, tears… You get me?

Another symptom of stain BETA is you'll be born with silver hair and deformed pupils, you can't see colour, and you're super fucking horny. Geostigma wants you to spread its genetic legacy.

That's why Yazoo was off limits – god only knows where Tifa found him and Loz. Such pretty boys, too dangerous to kiss.

He was a dancer – stripper, loveless, faceless, fucked over by destiny.

Ten points if you know who the most famous carrier of strain BETA is.

"Whoa…" Reno murmured, "Geostigma boy…"

Zack opened his mouth to say something… And then…

The proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan. Far off in the hall I heard a voice. Two to be exact, and then and now I can tell you that that person was actually female. Tifa Lockheart. The other one I'm not so sure. It was masculine, deep, gruff and all at the same time youthful, well mannered. You could even go as far and say it was elegant somehow.

"Fuck! You have to get out of here!" Hissed Reno to Zack, who just turned a very pale shade.

"Dude, she's blocking the way…" The now frantic pair glanced at me, and a word blossomed to my lips.

"No… Karma, boys." I said smugly. Reno only ripped open my room's curtain.

"Jesus you really are just a fucking princess, asshole!" The redhead cursed at me.

"I'm not an asshole!"

"Yes you are!"

"FINE!" I yelled, only to be hushed by both the men at the same time. I rushed into my room and pulled off the sheets on my bed, hearing the two people slowly getting closer.

_Who is that?_ The male's voice lacked the distinctive nasal American accent and rough slang; his boots didn't hit the floor in rough stamps. It couldn't be Cid.

"Get under here!" I spat at Zack, hiding him under a layer of messy bed sheets and a pile of pills and clothes. "And if you move, I'm not going to help you."

Under all that junk he looked like some ugly piece of modern art.

_Who is that? _I couldn't make out any swear words, nor his heavy stride or constant whining about the illegal weapons trade. Defiantly not Barret.

Reno gestured from the curtain and bolted from the room just as Tifa and her stranger came into view.

Shit.

I knew that face.

Ten points if you can guess who.

"This is-" Tifa started, sounding as smug as a fat cat with a flapping bird between her toes. Reno finished her sentence.

"Vincent Valentine!"

The oldest Valentine comic that I have even seen was circa 1965; the man in front of me would not be older then 30. The first word that come to mind is _vampire. _But that's not right. More like _faker_, more like _something is going on here._

"Reno, hold your tongue!" hissed a furious Tifa, and the dark man chuckled.

"It's fine," he intoned softly, "Reno, is it?" Scratch elegant, try sinister. Incase you're a fan of the comics, yes, Valentine's eyes are red, his skin is ash white, and his hair… Well it's black, but if you're observant, you'll notice a fine line between the mass and raven and his pale scalp- well it's white.

Vincent Valentine is an albino. If that's not a clue or not, that's up to you.

"You look like your dad. But his eyes were green if I remember right." The respectful tone in Reno's voice was alien to my ears. My childhood god, my anti-Hero, he just smiled.

"He died last year, my first year on the job. You know what it's like keeping up the tradition."

Reno just looked suave and in the loop, but I'm sure my face mirrored Tifa's no matter how hard I tried to look cool. Shock, pure and utter shock. It's always my face that betrays me.

"And who is this?" His voice was almost a purr. Faker, I just screamed to myself, liar. He wasn't my idol, he was a fake, a sleaze, a creep.

"I'm-"

I started of course in my most professional voice, but Tifa interrupted. The comic-book-character-in-the-flesh didn't even acknowledge my interruption with more then a rise of an eyebrow. Fucking asshole. Don't make me say 'who did he think he was.'

"Princess!" Yelped Reno, laughing like a Hyena. His voice interjected Tifa's.

"-Kitten. You may have heard of him…" Tifa said smugly, finally taming her features, choosing to ignore Reno.

"May have…" He said, a hungry grin breaking his calm features, and I wondered if he knew where I stole my alas from. "Princess, I'm the candy man." Jesus, I knew this game. He was trying to be impressionable, trying to be cool. Trying to dominate me with words before we even got to bed,

"Then I'm ready to indulge…" You couldn't hear the weariness in my voice but I felt like I was about to drown in it.

"Good thing I'm here to make your dreams come true then." He muttered, shoving his hand into his pocket, I heard the ruffle of plastic, and I knew it. He had what my skin crawled for.

"I have an itch, but its not the kind you can touch." Its not what you think it is, it's a code word, why do you think I love my drugs? Addiction aside, it's the romance that surrounds them. Don't call me an advocate.

"Let's roll, pussy cat," He said gaily, innocently, like I wasn't some harlot he was about to soil. I took his arm, towel still tucked around my hips. He smiled at my compromising state of dress.

The look Tifa gave me told me that I could not fuck this up as he guided me though my curtain. This is the kind of situation that gets you killed.

Been there, done that, all I could think about was the fact that Zack was still buried deep beneath my washing, with a 90 chance of suffocating. For some reason this made me smirk, for some reason this made me worry.

Lest if I was to be discovered.

You know how Geostigma ALPHA used to spread? It started out just as a small outbreak. Folks used to take their kids to the temple of Jenova in Cosmo Canyon and have their kids bathe in the in the holy water. Next day, perfectly healthy people would come and drink the water for luck. That's how disease works, physically -and morally too if you squint. Right now, I felt that the great swap of Hope was sucking me in more and more, and in a moment I would be the breeding grounds for the broken dreams and punishment.

Ten points if you guess what Reno said the next day.

"Dude, did Vinnie Val' call you 'Princess'? I am the fuckin' MAN!"

Fuck, that nickname would stick.

Review-review-review!

I can get a chapter out every month. Sorry. But I rewrote this about 2/3 times. And I'm still not entirely happy with it. Anyway, just as a side note, I hate drugs. My best friend is an addict, I have done them, and every time it just causes more pain. Follow this story to find your moral.


	4. Greener With The Scenery

A/N:

Ardwynna Morrigu: Gosh I know, I want to slap Cloud every time I write this story. I'm glad you like the part about Geostigma, since I thought that part would just weird people out XD. Thanks for reviewing again.

YinYangWhiteTiger: Yayy! I haven't played Crisis Core yet [ It doesn't come out in Australia for another few months yet… But I know Genesis from Dirge of Cerberus, so I'll see if I can sneak him in here somewhere! 14! Ohmygosh. Aww, he was so young, how cuteee! Of course you may, your phrases are really clever and neat.

SleighBells: Vincent is so hilarious, even in the video games. I adore him, but for some reason he makes me lol uncontrollably with his extreme emo-ness. Oh Vincent, what will you do next…

LoLoChan: Drugs are just eh. I think this story is my way with dealing with my friend's addiction in a way. Weird much, ahahaha. Anyway, Vincent well, you'll see. I'm having far too much fun manipulating Vinnie. Thanks for understanding that whole once-a-month deal. Life is crazy at the moment 

Risk-Master: Thanks, hun! I'll try not to disappoint you D

Stoic-Genius: It's hard when the people you love get involved in such risky ventures. You poor thing! –hugs-

CornCob: -blushes- Nawww! I'm glad you like it! Oh, Seph will get his revenge trust me… Probably in this story, and then again next time I watch AC by jumping out of the T.V. and skewering me with that silly sword of his xX 

And one hundred hugs and kisses for my beta Anikky, who is the most beautiful girl inside and out!

OH! If you have **Gaia**, friend me okay? My user name is Princess Genocide. 3

Disclaimer: Yes, I own FFVII because I totally could produce, animate, and design one of the world's most important and best videos games (OF ALL TIME!) when I was 11. Not, not, not. I don't own.

Reno tried to stop us entering the room, chatting to Vincent, but found his comments being brushed off. Tifa dragged the red head off with a glint in her eye; I hope Zack had enough sense to stay hidden.

_So this is what I have to resort to in order to get a fix._

I was excited and confused with naturally no idea of what I'd gotten myself into.

_Swallow your pride, it's not that difficult to comprehend. _

If I were to choose how to end my life, it would be in isolation. I'd go out in style, ala Big Edie. Just me and my innumerable cats – slowly watching my world decompose from the inside out. No way would I choose to be chopped into pieces by a man with no self control.

_This is what you want? That sweet sting of emptiness…_

Or maybe I'm just too nihilistic.

_There only one way to get it. _

Or maybe that's just me procrastinating.

_The pills will make everything better._

Probably both.

_Don't frown like that, you've done this before._

What I hate about my line of work is that it taints everything that should be sacred. It mass produces intimacy and sells it by the hour.

_Just do what you've been trained to do._

I'd come to hate being kissed – your first kiss embodies so much suppressed sexuality and desire that seems to diminish with each kiss that follows. I had been running dry for a while now. 

_Push the button._

Love? Maybe I can feel it, maybe I can't. For too many days, hours, months, years now I've felt like I've been shrunk and wrapped in plastic. The more and more I remember these events, I feel like I'm going crazy, but I'm told that 99.9 of my insanity is just plain, old melodrama. For that I'm ungrateful.

_Dizzying high. _

But I doubt you're reading this just to hear my musings- no, you want to know what happened when Vincent pushed me though my curtain, chuckled at the mess of belongings on my couch and floor and then pushed me carelessly on to my bed. No?

_Freedom._

That will just have to wait. Vincent Xavier Valentine (respectfully the first) began making an input in the drug scene in 1960; first he started by single-handedly butchering three drug lords, putting himself at the head of their monarchy. Still with me? That was forty-eight years ago. Seventeen years later, he would have a son, also named Vincent. Respectfully the second, that is. Maybe the son was just uncreative; maybe it was the father's dying wish. Both had the same goal- to restore their empire. 

"Enough with the play acting, _Kitten_." He sounded amused; it caused me to wonder. "I want this to be like your first time all over again, I want you to squirm, I want you to struggle. That's a good boy."

I lay on my mattress, which was now as bare as my body, and he hovered over me, leaning above, a knee between my legs and a hand reaching… What happened next… I don't know. The usual. I hope you don't expect me to graphically describe how I fucked him, for you are going to be disappointed, because yes, we did have sex, but no, I'm not going to get into the gory details. Go rent some seedy porn flick, or go jack off to some internet smut- if you want to know about me in action, _you will have to pay_. And then maybe I might re-enact the scenario with you.

Past the aggression, past the climax, past the heated bodies, he lay next to me on my bed, reclothed and silent. But not for long.

_Victory is at hand._

"Give me your hand," Valentine ordered. I placed it within his pale grasp; I'd do anything right now, the rustle of plastic baggies in his pockets were enough to drive me insane. I craved for materia. 

_I can almost feel it now._

"Do you know what palmistry is?" I shook my head. "Palmistry is the study of hands, the lines, and the signs those lines tell us. Some people believe that your palm is the blue print of your life." 

I stared at him; why couldn't he quit the foreplay and just give me what I wanted?

_Don't play with me._

"You write with this hand, don't you?" I nodded. He ran his long pale, pianist fingers up and down my hand; I shivered. "It can tell me everything there is to know about you… _Cloud_."

My eyes widened- how the hell did he know what my name was?

"Lines on your hands will never erase, some deep, some shallow, they will always remain." The son of my childhood hero was a goddamn-mother-fucking-hippy-creep.

_I want it._

"Jupiter," he touched under my index finger. "Religion, pride, respect." The lines were thin. "Saturn, Mercury, Lower Mars… Ahh, you're quite indifferent, aren't you?" He chuckled, not looking at me. "You will only have one love, Cloud- so Venus dictates. Venus is just here…" He touched the bottom left of my left hand. There were no marks on my flesh, and I started to wonder if this guy was just making shit up when he took something from his pocket. My every pore sweated, my heart raced- was he going to fill me with what my body lusted for most?

_Pleasure denied._

No. He pulled from his pocket a buck knife which he unfolded; I knew better than to struggle. This is the stuff legends are made of.

Maybe you've heard the stories about him; I'll jog your memory- the Mafia had tattoos that could identify which gang they belonged to, the Yakuza cut off the tip of a finger, and Vincent Valentine scarred to mark his property. All this shit about Palmistry- it's really just about ownership, a threat to all who dared to touch me. 

_Hurt this piece of flesh and you'll have Valentine on your tail. _

Think of it as the life insurance of the underworld.

_Sex means nothing to me. This is my last resort._

His knife met my flesh and I gasped. I didn't struggle, but the pain was immense, and tears welled in my eyes. Valentine stopped. Smiled and twisted my hand so I could see his mark, a gothic V that had already flooded the Plains of Mars, my life line and fate line. I wept, and the sadistic man next to me chuckled and threw a tiny baggie of drugs onto my lap. 

_Let me feel alive._

Valentine got up, and walked to the door.

"In the end, we all get what we desire, Cloud… Do you have what it takes?" And then he left. Just like that.

_Victory._

Three, two, one… lift off. 

A scream ran though my thin lips, my naked body shook. I drowned out all sound around me, Vincent's foot steps echoed in ears. I couldn't stop screaming, nor could I rip my eyes from my ruined hand, weeping a river of blood that swept like rapids down my arm and dripping onto my leg. The torrent didn't stop there; it grew into an ocean that pooled onto the leg tucked under my body, and it too ran down the sharp point of my elbow to my chest. Before long, I was no longer paper white; my golden hair almost invisible, my arms and legs stained. 

I screamed and screamed until my vision swam and I felt a hand lifting my face from the cascade of crimson, meeting Zack's bright, violet eyes that seemed to be mocking me with their cheery light.

I leapt from the bed and took a wild step back; for a moment it felt as though all the years of human evolution had reversed- I felt like an animal smothered in irrational fear, and soaked in gore, I collapsed onto the floor from blood loss. Still I scuttled across the floor, pushing up against the wall. Somehow I remembered how to speak.

"Fuck off! Don't fucking come near me!" 

The words hissed though my lips and felt as thick and heavy as honey, or more appropriately, my own blood. Zack stood quietly, his hand covered in sticky red, when Reno rushed into the room, his EMI drawn, ready to kick ass.

"What the fuck, yo!" He screamed at Zack in confusion, looking at his hand to my dripping naked frame.

"Dude! It was Valentine! He cut something into his hand!" Zack yelped in self-defence, blushing and throwing his hands into the air.

Reno narrowed his eyes and stared at his closest friend.

"Cloud, show me your hand…" Reno said, and to the best of my knowledge, I merely snarled at the Turk.

"CLOUD!" He screamed, and I yelped and pushed myself closer into the wall.

"He's in shock…" Zack said sullenly. He looked at my mattress and frowned, walking towards it and picking up the tiny baggie, the pills inside rattling together. The SOLDIER sighed and closed his eyes.

I knew I was staring at it, and he knew too.

"Hey, er, Cloudy, do you want these?" In my state of shock and lust I nodded, "Then I'll give them to you." Zack seemed subdued, saddened and weighed down by some alien emotion.

"Will you let me come over?" He asked calmly, as Reno watched us with narrowed eyes. I hesitantly nodded again, slowly gaining composure, but all the while trembling. 

Zack slowly inched towards me until he was only a foot away and passed me the bag. I unceremoniously snatched it and the knife that he offered in his other hand. 

With the speed and grace of an expert I slashed a narrow gap in my flesh at the base of my wrist, shoving two of the pills into my arm, but leaving one still in the bag. There was a rising sting – then nothing. I became subdued, and after a few moments my shaking stopped, a goofy smile crossing my face. Valentine's drugs were as quick as ever it seemed.

"That wasn't fair, yo." Reno sounded cold. "Hold him, I still don't trust him like that man."

Zack obeyed and drifted over to me with slow elegance, looping his hands once again around my wrists.

I couldn't feel anger nor violation in that state, I just stared at him with large confused eyes.

Reno inspected my hand; the blood had coagulated but still needed stitching.

"Can you do it?" The tired Turk inquired, and the SOLDIER nodded. "I guess I can…" Reno left with out a word.

Zack sighed letting go of me. He opened his mouth to speak, but just shook his head, and curiosity embedded itself into my soul. Just what was this irritating boy hiding?

Reno returned sullenly with a First Aid kit; it was Seventh Heaven's policy to look after yourself, since obviously a place like that wouldn't provide health care. The red head held my hand as Zack lifted a blunt looking medical needle threaded with a fine fibre that would soon be holding my flesh together once more. 

Everything faded to black.

---

When I awoke, I was tucked neatly into my bed, my hand ached, and all my senses seemed to be on hyper drive. The room was dark, apart from the rim of light that snuck in through the edge of my curtain. Outside I heard voices; it took me more than a few moments to realise who they belonged to.

"Will he be ok?" Rude! Rude was actually speaking.

"Should be, Zack did a good job on his hand," Reno sounded strangely quiet. 

"Was it really Valentine?"

"Fuck yes, yo, who else is that much of a fuckin' sadist?"

"True.What about Zack, how is he holding up?" Wait, what, Rude was more worried about that brat instead of me? How, well, rude.

"I dunno man, he's pretty fucked up at the moment. Sephiroth-" Reno's words melted into each other and I felt my eyes rolling back in my head. Everything came back to me- the blood, the sex, the pain, the stitches, the drug induced paralysis, and the blacking out.

"-they need him for the mission-" 

"-hoping to find-" 

"-doesn't want to kill him-"

"-didn't you know that Zack was gay? Well he didn't until-"

Sleep finally over took me again, and I slipped back into sleep.

The next time I awoke, it was from a shard of pain across my cheek and to the ugly sight of Tifa standing over my bed.

"You've been asleep for three fucking days! What happened to your hand? What's this about Valentine? What are you fucking on boy? Who stitched it! GET UP!" She bellowed at the highest pitch of her awful, girly voice.

"Valentine, he cut… Reno stitched, I think they were… Sleep…" Words trickled from my mouth painfully and slowly. I felt ill, and as I tried, I eventually sat up. To my surprise, I was clean and dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a baggy grey wife beater. I looked beside my bed, and the wooden floor was clean from blood. I didn't dare look at my hand.

I blushed with embarrassment, remembering my behaviour towards my body guard and creepy-SOLDIER-stalker. 

Looking at my bedside, I saw the tiny bag with a single pill in it. Ignoring Tifa who was bombarding me with more useless questions, I queasily picked up the bag and looked inside it. On one side there was the classic symbol of the Valentine empire, a stylised three headed hound, and then on the other a score line smoothly cut through the back of the pill like a normal pain killer. Also etched into it were three tiny S's. Sleeparga; you didn't get more vile than that. 

Most materia will be 1.5 MDMA (which is short for methylenedioxymethamphetamine), or in layman's terms, ecstasy; the rest is really up to the producer- cocaine, LSD, ketamine and more. One of the effects of ketamine is hallucinations, though in large enough doses it can also cause paralysis. It's mainly used as a horse tranquilliser. It's made up of ketone and amine; you know what ketone is? It's an organic compound of the carbonyl group, bonded to two alkyl groups by oxidizing secondary alcohols. Whether this makes sense to you or not, it basically means that it's the sister to acetone. Which is used in nail polish remover.

Keep that in mind next time you pop Sleeparga. 

I felt my body reject the poisons in my blood stream, my head feeling heavy.

"… Your next customer is Sir Jacob Veridian, hurry up," she huffed.

Shit!

So there I was stuck back into my working rut. I was craving again, worse then before- but I dared not touch the tainted drug that was now hidden under my bed. I was far too embarrassed to even glace at Reno, who fell back into his old habit of singing outside my door. I spent my little free time with Yazoo, who never questioned the grizzly scar on my palm as we discussed weight loss programs, and he never once mentioned Zack, thankfully. But I could see that he wanted to, I could see it in his glinting cat-pupil eyes.

I wanted to know how he had gotten out of the brothel that night; I wanted to know if he was coming back to take the stitches out of my hand. I wanted to know if he was really gay, and who he didn't want to kill, after the snatches of conversation I'd heard.

I disgusted myself completely.

I'd gone soft! 

Here I was, Cloud Strife- beautiful, young, lusted after, with an income to die for (which I was never to touch, thanks to Tifa), with a fan club of influential men, and the protection of the world's most notorious gangster- thinking about some idiot who had carelessly invaded my life with his stupid redheaded friend.

_Please for the love of god, someone break this cycle of monotony._

I resolved that if I would see him again that I wouldn't be rude, that I would be nice; after all, he did save my life.

That was a concept that seemed only to work in theory. 

I would like to say for the start of argument that memory and fantasy is far better then reality and the moment you are currently imprisoned in. 

Next time I would see Zack Fair, I would come to my senses and remember just how much I hated him and the universe would re-right it self from the strange tangent that I had created; I would become my spiteful, hateful self again. 

I hoped I would at any rate.

--

I must say that I was rather mean to Cloud. Eh. Karma is a bitch. : How is everyone today?

I hope this fic has been improving with time. Probably not XD It's sorta half-planned – so I'll give you a taste of next month…

How the govt. works in Hope, Reno's car, what P.L.U.R means, and the most effective way to remove red wine stains without cleaning materials. 

Oh, and the stuff about ketamine is true. 

Review! Hokay? You guys inspire me! See you all next month! xx


	5. Fck The System

Rise, rinse, repeat

((Arghhhh sorry about the lateness of this one, I had problems finding a beta… But its alllll good now!

I'd like to devote this chapter to LJ's very one Pyroarcfire, she is a real babe for editing for me!

I don't have time to thank each of my reviews this time around… Its because I just got Crisis Core. I had to ship it in from America because it doesn't come out here til June.

And I have some serious Zack molesting-I-mean-playing to do. 3

THANK YOU EVERYONE YOU ALL SPOIL ME WITH YOUR LOVING REVIEWS!

Cupcakes for ALL! Woooot!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Headhuterz, Showtek, raving or FFVII. ))

Rise, rinse, repeat.

Remember that?

I couldn't seem to forget it; life was so static that it felt as though it was going backwards. Voices, clothing, names, all blurred into a coloured stripe, and it'd only been a week. Everyone had seemed to have noticed and made their own judgment on my strange vagueness. Nero thought I'd finally gone insane and was about to murder everyone, Loz said that I was wacked in the head, well more so then usual.

I was on hiatus and it seemed to last forever, Tifa said that it was because of my hand. It was disgusting. Really it was the scar, but now even my most loyal of customers were too afraid to see me. I'd gone from number one to the only boy in Seventh Heaven who didn't have a customer all week. For the first time in years I had to beat off, it was humiliating.

Two hours previously that night I was safe back in the brothel, I was sitting on my bed reading melodramatic depressive poetry by T.S Eliot dwelling on Valentine's words, it was a quarter to eleven and I was waiting for my first customer of the night.

It seemed that I hadn't scared everyone away. But now…

How many times will I have to say this before I can finally express the depth of my hatred? Well, here I go again.

I hate Reno. I want him to die. I want him to be skinned alive; then flayed with braids of barbed wire; then thrown into a yard of starving dogs that spit leeches with a floor made of salt.

Two hours and four materia later I was semi-unconscious in the back of his car, screaming about how I couldn't breath, almost breaking Zack's hand with my iron grip.

Oh yes, don't worry; I'm planning to back track. You're not going to miss out on this one.

Tifa had clocked off early to whore herself up and run off to her beloved Saturday night dogfights. I'd heard her conversing to Reno though the curtain.

"Cloud has one last customer, Shaun Fifer, a fashion designer and he'll get here at eleven, I'm leaving at ten thirty. Following me so far Sinclair?" Ha, she had about as much faith as I did in Reno's intelligence.

"I think… so? So this guy is named Shaun right? Mmmhmmm, I think I get it…" I felt like smacking myself in the face, hoping that it was an act.

"He's requested that Cloud is dressed as a Candy Kid, god knows why." She paused, contemplating for a moment. "But the point is he's paid upfront so you don't have to worry about the cash. Rude will let him in. Your job is to make sure that Cloud is ready and that he leaves at one. Got it? I won't be back 'til tomorrow afternoon."

For the past seven days I hadn't dared even so much as glance in Reno's general direction. The memories of that night were mortifying I couldn't even think of them with out cringing. Who knows who Reno had told, and Zack… God even now it's embarrassing.

He mumbled something affirmative and I could hear Tifa stomp off; I couldn't stop my snigger, after all these years the thirty-year-old broad still couldn't walk in heels.

Counting.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Reno rushed in.

We have lift off.

"Quick, get ready yo!" He giggled. I glared at him and got off my bed lazily, stretching in a cat like matter and ratted though my closet, trying as hard as I might to hide my discomfort around the redhead, and the shyness that I'd developed (seemingly) overnight.

"Piss off Reno, I can do my job with out you." I growled softly, the previous week burning in my mind.

"Shut up Princess, soon as that bitch is gone we gotta fly, yo!" Reno giggled again.

"What the hell are you talking about shit face? I've got work to do." A foul mood was growing within me alongside my aggravation.

"Ahh whatever, the Shaun dude is me. I booked ya, and we're goin' to a rave yo," So that's what the giggling was about.

"What!" I flounced and threw the clothes that I had grabbed on to the floor. "I am not! What the fuck were you thinking! You can't do this! I AM NOT GOING!" The words flew from my mouth and my hands flew to my hips.

"HURRY UP! We're on the guest list yo, man Princess you have no idea what it took to get these tickets." Reno actually looked angry, the unfamiliar expression marred his face and his hand subconsciously reached for his rod.

Jesus Christ I had gone soft.

I grabbed the white wife beater and the pair of tight grey skinny jeans from where I'd dropped them and with no shame I stripped in front of my annoying redheaded shadow and dressed, pulling on a pair of candy coloured Puma sneakers.

"This is as 'Candy' as your getting Reno," I growled, that had to be the quickest I had ever gotten dressed. His usual grin resettled on his face and he grabbed my wrist.

The brat dragged me out the door and though the hallway where he winked to Rude (who just nodded as usual) and dragged me out the back entrance of Seventh Heaven.

The night wrapped its cold fingers around me and my blood turned to ice. The stench of the city stung my nostrils. The smell of people, trash and gas fumes was overwhelming. Noise droned like a hive of angry bees coming from ever direction, constant, like a demented industrial orchestra. A sigh escaped my lips; it was so good to be outside again. Something that I was rarely allowed to do as I was much too valuable to lose. It was both flattering and hostile at the same time.

There were only two cars parked in the small car park and Reno rushed to one, fumbling with his keys, eager to escape the bitter night.

His car was big and ugly, a lumbering muscle car, a relic from the seventies or eighties. At once I recognized it as a Pontiac Firebird, thanks to the obnoxious gold and white chocobo that embossed the hood and the dark plum paint job that glittered in the streetlights.

His car screamed suppressed masculinity.

I got into the car without any complaints, shivering. Inside was exactly what I expected it to be. Coffee cups, maps, random clothes, cigarette butts, but under all the grime and mess it was in almost perfect condition. Reno spared me no words as he started his beast up. It howled, and the redhead grinned at his reflection in the mirror before glancing at me, daring me to oppose him. When I remained silent he smiled again and opened the glove box and threw a handful of junk onto my lap.

It was an assortment of coloured hand made bracelets inscribed with tiny phrases and names of raves. I rolled my eyes. Among the mess were tubes and sticks of make up that glowed in the dark interior.

"Get ya'self all dolled up Princess," and he threw the Beast into gear, reversing and then slamming on the accelerator and speeding out of the car park.

I opened my mouth to argue but nothing seemed to fit, I'd already let myself go this far, and as they say, resistance is futile. Defeated (once again), I complied putting on make up using the tiny mirror on the visor.

Yes, I'd gone really, really soft; I was putty in his hands.

Reno sped, though he was a good driver, and despite all the SOLDIER cars we passed none dared to stop us. They seemed to recognize the Beast and some even waved.

Oh I guess that means I'll have to tell you about things run, noticed how the military, police and government is all run by SOLDIER? No, well no points for you.

Hope is a stratocracy. That means it's a form of government that's controlled by the military. It's a messy concept, kind of similar to that of a military dictatorship, but not.

Those SOLDIER bastards were the law they kept the world running and were surprisingly uncorrupted. No that was a lie. They were incredible corrupt.

The reason they fought gangs and Valentine so fiercely as to gain control of the drug trade. But on the other side of the same coin they appeared to be suppressing it. I get my drugs and the general public thinks that the streets were cleaning up. Win/win, no?

I wouldn't say someone like Zack was corrupt, more so it was that he had a terrible taste in friends.

The silence within the car was threatening, but I sat there like a good boy and put on my make up and Reno's bracelets and before long he slammed on the brakes.

Almost wetting myself I stared at the brick wall in front of our car, the bloody psycho had even sped into the parking spot.

"I'll be a minute, yo!" Reno told me as he exited the car, leaving it running, and ran to a door in the ugly piss stained wall. I watched with amusement, as I knew what he was doing, and this was the part that I actually started to like, Reno was a dealer…

Not that I showed my glee, I sat with my arms crossed and my knuckles white under tight skin, a small frown on my lips.

As much as this would probably be fun, it still went down as kidnap in my books.

Reno returned, slamming the door and throwing a ring box on my lap.

"Don't be a fuckin' fool, you have to ingest these. Speed and MDxx, these puppies will make us fly yo!" He laughed although I didn't like the sneering look that covered his face.

Speed doesn't go down well and can cause heat attacks if it comes into contact with the blood stream too quickly, depending on its strength it should be either snorted or ingested, the pills can not be cured. Materia that is inserted though the skin is cured with Mako, allowing it to be absorbed quickly with out the Mako effects of course, though the amphetamine's that make up speed doesn't react well with mako.

Still I pried open the box and picked out the small red pills, three tiny F's (that told me that these was Firarga and they were be swallowed) and a score mark on the back. On the front a leering wolf face, I shivered with excitement, my good old friend Fenrir. This stuff was expensive. The makers were a small gang and their shit put Valentine to shame.

Fenrir is a famous motorcycle brand, owned by two brothers Romulus and Remus, their identity is hazy which made their brand even sexier. Rumours said that they headed the small gang that competed with Valentine so turbulently. They were a symbol of resistance the Viking wolf god versus the guardian of the Greek Underworld.

Greed consumed me and I shoved two pills out of twenty in my mouth making sure that Reno's eyes were fixed on the road.

"Three for us and the rest I gotta sell, yo'," Reno informed me not looking up from the road and the car growled and pushed itself to the limit. "Careful, there's something new. Something's a little stronger then usual."

I ignored him deciding that the silent treatment was the best way to go, I wasn't used to the slow working properties, expecting the almost instant hit that I waned and I decided to shove one more down my throat, foolishly thinking that I could handle that much.

I assure you they overwhelmed me.

I don't remember how I got into the rave. But all of a sudden I was there, my senses tingled and Reno was yelling at me for eating over a two thousand gil's worth of drugs in five minutes, which was how much I could earn within an hour. But his words didn't mean anything to me, and they melted before my eyes.

Reno had a strong grip on my arm and I struggled to move, babbling excited non-sense. Suddenly out of now where Zack appeared and received orders from Reno to look after me. That maybe I'd taken a bit to much.

Maybe you've never done drugs before. Ha, then I pity you. The MDxx had set me on fire, the world around me danced and spun; I felt overwhelming sense of peace and love. Everything, but that I mean everyone looked so delicious I wanted nothing more than to kiss them, to hug them, to fuck them. The speed on the other hand put me on over drive. I rushed, spun and danced.

Reno was still swearing at me as I bounced away, and I had already hit the dance floor, the music compelled to me dance.

Time passed strangely. We were in the building for a good two hours, but I only clearly remember the two last songs that we heard.

Zack was there right behind me like a good body guard, his pupils dilated and laughing as I spun around. I'd kept up my strange chaotic grinding dance for a whole hour. Zack with his dog-like qualities kept by me the whole time while Reno sold drugs.

The music… The bass rocked the floor steadily and swam in and out of my ears. Distorted voices spoke to me.

I can't dance.

But that didn't stop me.

Electricity replaced my blood and I was full of boundless energy that I had to release. Zack laughed at me and I grinned like a Jack-o'-lantern.

"Bring me your silence; this is the sound of the Headhunterz."

The strobe froze time and I inched closer to Zack knocking elbows as we danced in the crowd.

"Its time to introduce to you our very own sound."

Suddenly everything exploded with colour, the dancers and I were stained with red and yellow and more strobe. The energy that pulsed though my blood screamed for sex, my mouth was dry and I thirsted for water; my jaw clenched and around me the ravers were experiencing the same thing; but they were prepared. Florescent pacifiers were clamped between their lips and clenching teeth, but not only that, Goth girls used crucifixes and lads and lasses used lollipops.

"This is it."

I danced, and I must have looked like an idiot, but the ravers just grinned and winked. I looked at Zack who shuffled like a pro, covered in the glowing residue of a glow stick that stuck to the edges of his mouth. He wore contract lenses that glowed purple in the dark.

"Don't hesitate"

I looked for Reno, but he was long gone. I looked at Zack again who was paying me no attention, dancing with a pretty blond girl. My ecstasy turned to jealously.

Don't ask. I was on drugs after all, I was PLURing something fierce, and it wasn't like I was really attracted to him anyway.

Oh, PLUR, you don't know what that is right?

It used to be LPE (love, peace, ecstasy) but when the whole raving thing became illegal the candy kids called it PLUR, peace, love, unity, respect. Which was I was experiencing right then. You could call it the desired effect of MDMA, because when raver kids are sober it doesn't exist. There isn't a bitchier subculture on earth.

The strobe kicked in again. I had no control over my body.

"We are the Headhunterz."

This was animal instinct all over again, but of a different variety. I wasn't freaking out and protecting myself, this was more Hormonal. The music reached it peak and the room was bathed in a crisscross pattern of bright green light that was broken up by the erratic strobe. Zack was next to me. But in less then a second I was in Zack's arms, and to get there I had to shove Little-Miss-Raver away into a group of dancers, they must of yelled but I paid them no mind. I pushed my face into Zack's. He grinned at me with big doped up eyes, and I knew he was on drugs. Some little voice in my head told me that things weren't meant happen like this.

The bass reached its climax.

With my arms now looped around his neck I fucking kissed him.

"And we bring you melody."

Counting five, four, three, two, one.

And it wasn't just an awkward meeting of mouths; no it was more rhythmic then that, his arms were suddenly all around me, feeling so strong against my frail figure, his tongue clashed with mine for dominance that I was not prepared to give him. I was equally revolted and ensnared by him, horny from the drugs, frustrated by my crappy week and besieged by growing dissatisfaction. Our kiss was just what I needed. All this while so many thoughts were running though my head; my eyes were closed, but I did peek. His were too.

It some how felt genuine.

"Prepare yourself to be bashed."

To me it felt like the kiss had lasted a few minutes, but really it'd only been a few seconds. Raver girl was back with a vengeance and she whacked me in the shoulder hitting my exposed flesh, and I acted to fast for my own liking, the pills had me peeking and I was no longer able to think, I pushed Zack off me and spun around.

She was short, but I was only a tiny bit taller then her and words poured from her mouth. I couldn't hear nor understand them.

Instead I just spat on her.

"To the barriers of another."

Counting five, four, three, two, one.

Cat fight!

"Dimension."

Never underestimate small girls, because she packed a massive punch, which landed smack in the middle of my chest, and the dancers that I knocked into seemed to be her crew. They too seemed to want to put a dent in my pretty face. I did the smartest thing I had done all night, something that would lead to the dumbest, I ran.

I pushed past dancers, grinning like a murderer, being trailed possibly by Zack and the raver crew.

But the nightclub was huge and suddenly I was upstairs among the seedy couples that groped and kissed.

The music had changed.

"Freaks on E, that's what we fuck man."

The song sent shivers down my spine as the DJ hollered to the crowd.

I leaned on the rail, trying to spy my allies and enemies, but all the pressed bodies just looked like one ugly swaying monster, everything was too colourful.

"This is what I love and can't stop loving: get wasted at parties from nine till seven in the morning I live for the music. "

My heart raced from running, and all of a sudden I panicked that one day I would have to come down off this high and I didn't want to. The music faded away and all I could hear was my heart beat. I closed my eyes and leant heavily on the rail regaining composure.

I could hear the music again but I didn't open my eyes.

"Or take some pills and go to la-la-land."

That prospect kept me alive, I smiled.

"Spending all my money on dope and extremely high priced tickets, but in the end it's all worth it. I like to live in my own world."

I laughed out load like a madman, but no one would have heard me. That sounded like Reno, and I felt no remorse for popping all of his pills.

"Fuck regular life. Fuck your nine to five job; I'm told to enjoy every moment, every hour, every minute."

I frowned; in my addled state the song was confusing me. Was the DJ talking to me? I wondered. Was my life really that repetitive?

"That's what I do on Fridays and Saturdays, why should I take life so seriously? I just want to do what I like to do."

That was all well and good from him to say, but I didn't know what I liked to do. I like to dance and be with people. Though I couldn't get along with society. But now I realized just how hard I wanted to be. Wasn't that the reason that I came that night? Because I was being offered friendship and I finally allowed myself to accept that. I was going to do what I wanted to do from then on. I'll do want I want. That became my mantra and I slowly peeled my eyes open. My jaw hurt but I was still only just starting to climax on the drugs.

"Being far from reality because I can't stand society, it's my own world. I just want to hear the music!" I grinned and lost all of the attention I'd devoted to the lyrics, I bounced back into my chaotic dance.

A man next to me nudged me. He was old about 30 or 40 and not at all attractive. But he had trapped my body onto the rail with his grinding on the other side. I didn't feel nervous for a moment. I knew what he wanted, and I was well trained for this. I grinded my hips on his and felt his boner touching my crouch. He reached one hand around to clutch my ass and with the other brought his hand to my mouth and shoved a pill in.

I am going to do what I want to do.

Greedily, I swallowed it. I'd fallen hook line and sinker for probably the only gay male rapist in the room.

"CLOUD!" Reno bellowed and appeared out of nowhere (again with the irate expression), I felt his hand pulling me away from the seedy guy who backed off quickly and I stumbled downstairs again, smiling as Zack met us at the bottom with a worried expression.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck you idiot! Spit it out!" Reno shook me and pulled me to the bathrooms. Zack took my other hand. "Cloud you need to spit that pill out."

I shook my head stubbornly.

"It's gone! Gone, gone, gone with the wind!" I cackled, my breaths still short from running, which was almost five minutes past. That bothered me. My breaths increased in short sharp gasps, but I still smiled stupidly.

"Don't give him any water what ever you do," Zack said, and then glanced at the packed men's room around us. "Out side, back to your car, he needs air; he can't breath properly."

When tripping on any form of MDxx it's a side effect to become thirsty. Although it's best to avoid water.

Reno put a hand to my chest and felt my heart.

"Jesus Christ Cloud, you are the biggest fuck up I know." The redhead swore and then I was dragged away again, this time to out site the packed warehouse, past bouncers who affectionately greeted Reno and Zack. I found myself growing dizzy, to many illicit substances in my body. "I don't feel nice." I said before the cold air hit me like a mallet and I lost my breath.

"Stop!" I gasped and I slumped, I was over come by the strangest feeling of weightlessness and some how being crushed as well. I closed my eyes.

Someone picked me up.

"Don't you fucking dare go to sleep Cloud! I will fucking kill you if you fucking start over dosing on me. FUCK!" Reno screamed but his voice seemed far off and I felt my self being placed sitting up on the sidewalk against a brick wall. I opened my eyes, but everything swam out of focus as my eyes rolled back in my sockets. Eye rolls, fuck I hate eye rolls.

"Cloud, unclench your jaw," Zack asked softly, but I shook my head and then yelped at the sensation. "Cloud. Please, talk to me, don't go to sleep." He said in desperation, he's almost seen me die once (Don't call me over dramatic! I could have died! Blood loss much!).

"Tell me something about yourself." He asked anxiously trying to get me to stay awake. What ever was in that pill washed over the speed and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I fell for his trick and words spilled from my mouth.

"My birthday is the 19th of August," I whispered, all niceness had left my body and replaced by a sickening drowsiness that I tried to fight. "I'm-I'm seventeen, I like cats." "Cloud you should be at school, you shouldn't be at Seventh Heaven," My eyes stopped rolling and Zack swam into vision, Reno was standing over his should looking pale and panicked. The SOLDIER glanced at the Turk and said "You never said he was a kid."

Reno just shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head. No one but me, well, and now Zack and Reno knew my real age.

"Shut up! You don't understand!" I hissed and my eyes rolled upwards again.

"Cloud. Aw fuck it Princess, I know you don't like just much. But we like you." The redhead's voice was slightly sleazy, Zack interjected. "Keep talkin' Spiky, what's your favourite movie?"

Zack had me talking, I told him all the trivial boring facts about my life, about my passions and pet hates. He seemed sensitive now that I'd told him my age. And I felt he wanted to talk more about my life. That made me feel sick.

I'd hope that next time I saw Zack that I'd renew my dislike for him, but instead I found myself growing attached to him. He was so oddly persistent and strangely caring. He'd grown up from that nervous homophobic little boy I'd first met. It made me grow suspicious as well, what his motive behind this forced friendship?

Reno vanished in a while came back with salt water from the medic's (to settle my stomach) that he forced me to swallow. And then men moved me in to the back of the beast.

"Jesus Princess, you've really out done your self this time."

My body shuddered, wracked with pain and I started to cry like a child. I was fighting all the drugs that riddled my body and the sleep that wanted to over power me.

"DON'T LET VALENTINE GET ME!" I screeched, stilling up and falling out the open door of the car rolling onto the ash felt. They'd left me for a moment to smoke, but from the Zack and Reno pulled me into the backseat, Reno was already bored and wanted to take me back. Though it was almost dawn and Zack had said it was too risky, even with Rude at Seventh Heaven.

"Shut the fuck up yo," Reno hissed and took another drag from his Phoenix Down brand cigarette. But he knew that the SOLDIER was right.

Zack was sympathetic to my now pointless ranting.

"He said, I'm his one true love," I stared at Zack with wide eyes. "He marked me! I don't want to belong to him! I don't even belong to me! I don't-I don't…" The more tired I became the more my pain grew and my stomach gurgled. I made less and less sense.

"He's not going to get you Cloud," he sighed and tightened his grip on my hand. I returned the squeeze with an alien bone crushing strength. The SOLDIER winced.

My eyes were closed and I tried to whisper, not wishing Reno to hear me.

"Zack-Zack, are you going to kill me?" I giggled and choked back sobs.

"No Cloud," He said softly, then lowering his voice said, "Run away from this Cloud run away from everything or it's going to catch up with you. And that'll be soon Princess, sooner then you think."

Those words made no sense to me and I almost had forgotten them by the next morning.

"Zack, are you gay?" I whispered, no longer able to fight my tiredness anymore.

"Why does it matter Princess, you hate me remember." He chuckled.

"Oh yeah." I muttered "But I kissed you." No long being able to fight it I shut my eyes.

"What of it?" His voice was cold.

"Nothing. I'm going to sleep."

Maybe its time to be honest with you all, I've let myself slip up to many times. I didn't hate him. I never hated him. It's just within my nature to be that defensive. Zack and Reno were the first real substance in my life since before my mother died.

They were odd balls, druggies, and typical males. I don't even know why they found me so endearing to hang out with.

This is where things start getting weird.

I'd kissed Zack and almost given Reno a heart attack.

But that was almost nothing compared to-

--

(Oooo, cliffhanger!

Sephy comes next chapter.

Hahaha that's all you'll get from me.

Nao. Time to get to the bottom of this Genisis/Angeal buiness.

(Genisis' English voice is sooo sexy, lol.)


	6. Lua

You don't know how many times I gave up on this chapter

I'd like to thank chapter 4's reviewers, the lovely… sheikyboy (yess there will be action, but good things come to those who wait. And I like writing drama lol.), Rarhatten (oh and what beautiful tears they are! Thank you darling), Stoic-Genius (HUGS! Thanks a bunch D), sm0kr420 (sorry about the month thing. But that's just how I roll. If you want you can have my email and spam me into updating. Roflzz), Risk-Master (Yeahhh I know a month is long. But I have two chapters for this month. XP And I'll try and make a habit out of it.), SleighBells (Oh Cloud will be saved, if he pulls his head out of his ass and lets Zack save him. –turkey slaps Cloud), LoLoChan (you're clever XP, I'm glad someone picked up on Vinnie's proposal. K is crap, I hates it. Anyway, yeah small pills about the size of umm, a normal painkiller halved. I'm sorry I haven't been able to chat to you on gaia yet! ), Toons (haha I'm glad you like it. Dark is fun too?), YinYangWhiteTiger (Naww THOSE PHRASES ARE AWESOME! I'm going to use some – I promise!), CornCob (I used to lovvveeee Vincent. Until Dirge and yeah. Not not so love XD I'm happy you enjoyed it.), Ardwynna Morrigu (I liked it how you always review without fail. D Cloud's reaction is a little off, but its only because he's so introverted and spoilt. He needs to get out more.)

I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to you all last chapter! I was just so rushed and I was feeling not-nice.

Anyway… As for 5's reviewers… BlackRaincloud (Seriously it was meant to last 6 chaps and I keep adding crap so its getting longer and longer… And it will probably end up that long. Just for you though XD Hahaha THANKYOU!), Stoic-Genius (Again! Yay! Ahh Cloud is such a Princess though. And I will end up putting him in drag. To justify the name. –cough-), sm0kr420 (Yes! I love raving. Its fun. I always end up tripping balls and looking after my idiotic friends. Ah well. It leads for good inspiration. And I'm clean now, its awesome. And the boys name drop a lot in this chap. But Seph comes sooo soon.), Toons (I'm glad you came back! I hope its not to dark for you. I'll add some rainbows and unicorns if does… Or Riku. He's pretty good at fighting the darkness), Leon and Cloud's Kitty (I seriously wanted to slap that man silly, if anyone freakin' says 'the gift of the goddess' once I will stap them silly!!), Sekre (Thanks!! D), Ardwynna Morrigu (Ahh Sin City, Miller is a god. I can't wait for them either.)

This has gone on far to long.

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN FFVII!**

… Today's turmoil.

I slipped into consciousness, all around me was pain. At first I was almost over come by my sense of bewilderment, and my aching brain groaned with effort as I strained to remember the night before.

_Initialising reboot. 1-2-3, testing?_

Reno's beast flying around corners, purple eyes that glowed in the semi-gloom, some sort of drug addled life changing revelation, tiny red pills pressed with eyeless wolves.

'Oh yeah,' I thought, 'you kissed Zack.'

Wait… _WHAT?!_

I sat bolt upright and with sudden inexplicable remembrance I recognised my surroundings. The black leather upholstery, the sagging roof adorned with a single bullet hole above the front passenger seat… that pain in my back? It was from the seat belt slot.

Dizzy with vertigo I feel back into my makeshift bed, wincing as the as-forementioned-seatbelt slot thing re-embedded itself in to my unsuspecting flesh.

Reno's car was a piece of shit. I raised my hand to protect my protesting eyes from the too-bright rays of sunlight that invaded the cabin of the car.

"Well that's too fuckin' bad buddy," my brow creased, that was Reno's voice right? "I said I wanted ten percent of the final cut yo, it's not easy to sell this shit!" I frowned, who was he ranting at, Valentine? No way. Fenrir? Some nobody? "Ev'ryone is on edgy yo, you know

why… Fuck man, haven't ya'heard? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Its Valentine, rumour is he's back in business…" My frown grew deeper.

_Please wait, Windows is loading…_

Um, that had to mean something… Reno had known perfectly well that Valentine was back. Hell, I had seen them speak like old pals back at Seventh. So that meant the red head was working both sides…

"And ya'know, that business with Sephiroth-" Reno's voice ebbed away as he lowered his voice. I didn't care. The less of his business I knew the better, I was to spaced out care about anyone. But Vincent's leering face had invaded my mind; his image distorted and uglified my unreliable memories… I opened one eye and stared at the scar on my palm, it seemed to leer back at me. I sighed, the soft tissue was read and swollen, but my broken skin had some how healthy knitted itself back together again. I'd achieved what humpty dumpty had failed at for so long. I wondered when the stitches would be ready to come out.

"Yeah man, I'll be 'round in an hour, fine fine! HALF A FUCKIN' HOUR! I just gotta do some shit first. Yeah, cya…" I flinched at the plastic snapped as the redhead closed his phone.

"Zack!" oh so Zack was there too… I closed my eye again. Please, please go… I don't want to see you. My head protested, surely hanging with Zack, all awkward like, would be better then Seventh Heaven… Actually. The thought of my bed and maybe taking my anger out on Loz wouldn't be so bad…

"You know I can't Reno," Zack whined, he sounded uncharacteristically nervous and off key.

The thought of our kiss burned in my mind, Anyone but him, seriously, please, fuck… it made me feel even more ill then before.

Oh I bet you're thinkin' 'Oh but you're a prostitute, don't you kiss weirdos/strangers/stalkers/nutcases/unattractive people/people you don't like everyday?'

Yeah, well, you are right. I do.

But that's not the point. I had kissed Zack with the vigour of unsuppressed emotion, in my most unguarded vulnerable moment. I would have kissed any familiar face really… And I don't fucking do that every day, hell I don't do that ever. It was a one off. And the fact it was him made it even worse. I had an image of myself that was so set in stone, I lived to survive, I was Kitten, not Cloud, I was not passionate, I was sly, I was not caring, I defiantly was not lustful. But now Asshole One and Asshole Two seemed so determined to smash my last sense of self. Ripping up the foundations of an institution that had held fast for so long and could have lasted forever… They were proving there was another me bailed up behind my walls. And they probably didn't even realise that they were doing it. The

idea there was more to me that I didn't even know to exist was frightening. It made me more highly strung then before.

_Now loading: 'seeminglyirrelevantphilosophy.doc"_

"Mind" is a tool invented by the universe to see itself; but it can never see all of itself.

_Decode relevance?_

_NO._

I was fucking terrified.

"Fuck you Zack you owe me!" Reno snapped.

"What for man? You owe me. I saved this kid enough; I don't want part of this anymore. You know what Sephiroth would do to me if he found out." There was that name again. I was curious, the fog that clogged my brain seemed to thin a little. Zack sounded more and more frantic. How unusual.

"Is that what your worried about? Your own ass?" Snarled Reno. I felt sicker, I did not want to be responsible for the end of their friendship… Not because I liked them, I just really didn't need more drama in my life. "You know exactly what would happen if he found out…"

"Oh yeah?! What, just tell me what!"

"You will get a big-fat-pay rise, and I will end up in rottin' in Forbidden City six feet under. Fuck knows what will happen to Princess, yo."

"EXACTLY! JUST TAKE HIM BACK TO THE BROTHEL AND BE DONE WITH IT!" I sat up, shaking. "If Seph sees him, you two are fucked, I can't take him…"

"Oh yeah and should just fuckin' march him into Romulus's pub? With Valentine's mark? Just what I need. If they see him he's gonna end up either dead or in their shop." Reno paused. Both of their backs were visible to me in the back window. My breathing was unsettled. "Vinnie would start a fuckin' gang war and then we're both dead. Just get him to wear a pair of gloves and the fuckin' silver bastard will nev'r know, how the hell is he supposed to know he's a whore? Ev'ryone is in a fuckin' gang these days, yo."

Reno's jaw was set firm, and Zack stared back defiantly. The silence felt dangerous, stretched and ready to snap in a heartbeat.

_You' just added you to his/her friend list, accept?_

With creepy timing they both glanced over their shoulders to see my pale, sickly face staring at them with innocent wide eyes.

Zack sighed and lowered his head in defeat.

"We're walking on the edge of a knife here," he murmured to Reno, who just nodded in turn.

"He's either dog food or ShinRa's new trump card." Added the redhead.

"Fine." Zack said, not looking at me and staring at Reno with dark eyes. I noted that he was wearing a pair of square framed black glasses; it made him look almost alien. "I'll get him back to Seventh Heaven by three. Two hours. I need something for him to wear though…"

Was it one o'clock already? Shit I'd been asleep for hours.

That caused me to look down the front or my wife beater, it was dark, stained. I touched my top lip, then my chin. They were crisp with dry blood, flaking off at my touch. How embarrassing, I'd had a nosebleed in my sleep.

Reno nodded and my vision of them was obscured for a moment as he opened up the boot of the car.

So I was going to meet Sephiroth. I was still too out-of-it to realize the full importance of the matter. I gripped the seat to rebalance myself and turned my battered body around. On the grimy floor I looked for my shoes, which I found under a mountain of balled up tissues and porn magazines. I left them on the seat deciding to tackle my laces later, and rummaged around the junk aimlessly, trying to ignore the two men as they discussed me and looked for clothes in Reno's boot. I found an almost clean pair of black fingerless gloves, which I pulled on. In that time the redhead had pulled open my door and thrown in a can of deodorant and a one of his white linen shirts, before slamming the door shut again.

Clearly I wasn't forgiven for my behaviour last night. Later I couldn't decide if that was a victory for me or a loss.

I swapped shirts and sprayed on the spicy smelling deodorant and felt slightly more human. I made a brave attempt at my shoes and got out of the purple Pontiac in good time. Zack was leaning against the car with his head down. Reno was back on the phone, as soon as the sunlight hit my eyes they rolled slightly. I groaned and fell back slightly, quickly regaining my footing and looking at the ground. I'm sure both men shook their heads at me.

Reno strutted over and shoved a pair of silver Aviator sunglasses into my hands. I looked at them stupidly before putting them on. Now I could roll my eyes in privacy with out the whole world glaring at me. They helped with the sun too; no shit. He covered the mouthpiece of his phone as he walked grimly to the driver's side door of the beast.

"Good luck," there was something nasty about the tone of his voice. Right away I distrusted him, "For god's sake get that blood off his face." And then he got in his car.

Before I even have the chance to speak, Zack gently took my wrist and pulled me away from the car. It started with a roar and sped away. The world wobbled and I fell into Zack, he just sighed and handed me a handkerchief so I could wipe my face.

It was awkward. I didn't want to speak to him, I couldn't trust my voice, or my stomach, I had a feeling of dread that if I opened my mouth I would probably spew everywhere.

He sighed again and gripped his hands on my trembling shoulder blades and frog marched me towards a gleaming Hardy Daytona and more or less sat me down into the saddle of the bike before getting on it himself.

Okay, I see how it's going to be.

He didn't start the bike, he sat there looking at his hands, and then, eventually spoke.

_Virus detected!_

"Princess, just keep quiet, please for the love of all things holy don't talk about Reno or any of the shit you're involved in." I gave an indignant snort, which he maturely ignored. I nervously noted that this was only the second time I was alone with Zack. And really, the first time didn't could. And plus, I didn't know who or what I was at that very moment.

"Just keep your mouth shut and look pretty," his voice was borderline cruel. "I'm sure even you can manage that."

That stung. I was confused for a moment. I had thought that Zack was the kind of guy never to strike a blow, that aspired to be everyone's friend.

It was quite possible and more so obvious that he'd just taken enough of my hostile shit.

"Fine." I croaked, "Where are we going?"

Zack started the bike with the roar of the powerful engine, I was almost excited, and I had a secret love of motorbikes.

"The Trembling Cup – it's a café-" he stared.

"Yes, I know. I promise not to ruin your little tea party," I growled.

Zack rather aggressively hit the gas and started forward before we stopped.

"Cloud, hold on." He growled.

"I'll be fine, actually I just might walk back to Tifa's." Oh god, what I lie. I had no idea where we were. Some smelly car park in the northern part of the city.

"Just hold on," Zack said, softer then before.

"No!" I squeaked. "I'll be fine." I was deliberately pushing him now. Just out of spite.

"For fucks sake just hold on to me!" Now that was a yell. But I could counter it.

"Fuck. You." I said back, my voice raising to a higher octave.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Zack snarled, "What the fuck is your problem with me?"

"I could ask you the same thing…" I said, but his question shook me.

"No. I've been nothing but nice to you, and you're just a fuckwit. Fine. Don't hold on, get splattered on the pavement like the cheap whore you are…" His words were rushed, and I knew he didn't mean them. Zack was probably recovering from last night as well, and he'd just argued with his best friend. And it was all my fault.

But hell, I wasn't going to lose this one.

I got off the bike and walked away heading for the streets.

I heard the engine rumble back to life and the SOLDIER slowly passed me, as soon as he was out of sight I fell back on the pavement.

Tears forming in my eyes.

_Error. Data corruption. Reboot?_

Have you ever read about Deviance in sociology?

As in 'smoking in a non-smoking area' kind of thing.

No? Well okay, consider this a crash course.

See these people ('Structural-functionalists' aka 'normal' people) believe that 'deviants' (aka 'abnormal' people) fuck up when they are basically forced to do 'normal' things.

This guy named Merton or something had this theory called the 'Strain Theory': our cultural goals of conformity and ritualism are institutionalised to the populace (still with me? I'm not great with explaining this kind of stuff…) and 'abnormal people' will reject these means…. Innovation from conformity… And then retreating from ritualism… And then that results in rebellion and the creation of new means and new goals…

Ya'get me?

Pretty much being a deviant make you a criminal. But for me it meant something different.

I had been used to being to so protected. I had lived at home. Restricted to the naiveties of the schoolyard. I had lived on the streets and growing a stoic shell that never worked probably anyway. I had lived spoilt in the confines of Seventh Heaven. Growing used to my own inflated sense of self worth, decaying, forgetting.

Leaving behind the last fragments of my real self.

I had not had an innovation, I just retreated and conformed. I was going from rebellion to being complacent in the environment that I had been slowly groomed into.

Basically I had no real life experience. I wasn't trained to deal with this.

_Reboot?_

I didn't know what it was like to have a real friend. My body slid down the wall and I was sitting on my ass on the dirty gutter.

_Reboot?_

_Y/N?_

Tears spilled down my cheeks unchecked. I wasn't crying because I was upset. I was crying out of frustration.

My life had been all about control. Either I was puppet or the master.

Zack and Reno offered freedom, I could see now that I feared it. But once I had gained it I did not want to give it up.

_Reboot?!_

_Y/N?!_

Had I swallowed the red pill? Or was the blue pill rotting in my gut? Was this my reality, or was it just a video on loop.

_Rebooting in 10…_

I swallowed, last night it had all seemed so simple up there in the nightclub. Though I could hardly remember my revelations.

_Rebooting in 9…_

I was so stupid, so foolish, and so self-centred.

_Rebooting in 8…_

And I knew no matter what happened that wouldn't change.

_Rebooting in 7…_

I just had so much pent up rage, self-loathing and frustration.

_Rebooting in 6…_

And it wasn't about to go anywhere.

_Rebooting in 5…_

I rested my head in my hands and leaded up against the brick wall. The sudden rush of emotion caused my eyes to roll uncontrolled.

_Rebooting in 4…_

"Cloud?" It was his voice I knew. Had he come back to yell some more?

_Rebooting in 3…_

The bike growled as it approached.

"Cloud I'm sorry I just lost my temper… You can ruin my tea party if you want…"

So my initial evaluation of Zack had been correct. He was the good guy. Nice to everyone.

"Fuck off, you hate me remember. Just go on your little date and protect your best friend."

I knew he was next to me. I could hear his soft, hitched breathing.

_Rebooting in 2…_

"Aww, don't be like that Princess…" He murmured softly, "How could I go with out you?"

_Reboot aborted._

I sniffed.

"P-please just drop me at Tifa's. Or tell me how to get there." The strange weakness in my voice made me want to scream. I just didn't have the energy left.

I think the black haired SOLDIER knew that.

He lifted my arm and I still refused to look at him, and for the second time put me on the bike. I know when I've lost.

But this was more of a stalemate.

He got onto the bike and I looped my arms around his waist. Zack let out a small surprised squeak. I just shut my eyes.

With in ten minutes we had stopped again.

Surely we weren't at Seventh Heaven just yet?

I looked up, and the sign told me we were at the Trembling Cup.

I could almost scream. But at the very least my eyes had stopped rolling.

We got off the bike in unison. I didn't even dare to look at him. I was ashamed, and felt cheated and still incredibly drug sick.

"Here goes nothing…" Zack muttered and walked towards the flashy brass door of the café. I had no choice but to follow him, my heart beating erratically.

Talk about an emotional roller coaster.

All I wanted to do now was sleep. Or pump myself full of drugs again.

My head was clear as day! Except for the sidesplitting headache and the threat of throwing up any minute. Two meters to the door isn't much time to contemplate meeting the other side of the social spectrum. What would I say? Would they find me out? And what would happen? Why was it so important that they didn't? These were questions best saved for Zack but with his hand on the doorknob with out so much as a glance at me – I knew that now was not the time.

I guessed this was how all those boys felt before they met their girlfriend's father in all those chick flicks I had consumed.

It amazes me some times; I can go from self-loathing and dramatics to superficiality so quickly.

But Zack was already though the door and was holding it open for me. I wondered if I looked okay and rushed though the door.

_Trojan Horse detected._

I felt like a fake, a liar, I was too scummy for a place like this. With the perfectly starched table cloths and delicate china…

Zack lead me to a table in the middle of the establishment. I stood behind him, obscuring my view of the tables' occupants, using the animal philosophy (and quite possibly Reno's too) of 'if I can't see them, they can't see me'.

"Why, its nice to see you at last Zachary," said one deep, calm voice, I could not help but think it was slightly mocking.

"I'm so glad you decided to grace us with your presence." Now this voice was nasal, not exactly pleasant but very well educated.

"Heh, sorry about that, Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal." There were three of them?!

_Trojan Horse identified. Delete 'Cloud7.exc'?_

"Who is your friend?" This voice was calm, nice, I relaxed. The first friendly voice I had heard in this frightening group.

"Um this is…" Zack started. Fuck. Fuck fuck. I just knew he was going to fuck this up.

_Delete...?_

--

THE END!

Not really.

Part two of this is already written. But I'm going to put it out in a couple of days. Just to tease you all.

I dislike reallllly long chapters. And I don't want you guys to go all tl;dr on me XD


	7. Doctor! Doctor!

(I'm not going to offer any excuses. I can't update when I like. My life doesn't allow it. If you knew the shit that happened in my life between these two chapters it would make your hair curl.

A special thanks to Fox, Etrixan and Darkened Skys for their beta offers… My beta got in contact with me and then sent this to me that same day. Oh the irony. But I haven't had time to upload it. But if you guys would still like to beta for me there is always next chapter… Just email me at x-afireinside-x AT hotmail DOT com or add me on msn or something and we'll arrange it.

Thank you Blackraincloud (and I'm sorry for making you cry darling –hugs-), Keychain001 (you make me blush with all your flattery! You're the greatest and yeah, Zack is rather Sonic like in appearance, CONSPIRACY!?), sheikyboy (its alllll goood, sorry for the late update ), iShiznitch (first person is the way to be! I'm glad you can bare my writing style XD how'd the test go?), Anna (your wish is my command Anna! –chapter appears-), ff-kh-luvrgrl (actually your review inspired me name wise D), Takiko Kyuuketsuki (thank you! FFVII will never be the same again. I've corrupted it), Etrixan (I try… I hate making them villains though. In my head they all get along very politely.), Toons (naww, tell me what parts you find confusing so I can fix 'em for you.), Risk Master (I HATE the 'perfect' Zack stereotype. It must be so tiresome to be so freakin' perfect all the time. I'm sorry about the lateness ;;;;), Ardwynna Morrigu (Oh Cloud, he's a real fixer-upper. But that's why we love torturing him so muchXD), Stoic-Genius (no it wasn't nice to tease I'm sorrrrrry. But yes. Cloud should have more break downs I think.), sephcounttheways (I seriously worship your fic – you are like god to me –bows-).

I am really sorry about it being so late but again – I can't help it. This chapter is really confusing according to my lovely beta – but I have no time nor the energy right now to fix it. Just point out the fucked up bits and I'll go over them later.)

_DEFCON:_

_The measurement used by the Shin-Ra Government to measure the activation and readiness level of the SOLDIER and Turk armed forces. DEFCON 5 is the usual level during peace times, and DEFCON 1 is only initiated when Gaia itself was threatened by outside forces. DEFCON 3 is an increase force of readiness just about normal. All radio communication is changed to classified call signs to prevent interception._

If the road to hell was truly pathed with good intentions then Zack would be half way there already. Nervously I removed the Aviators with trembling fingers, it wasn't deliberate, my whole form was shaking to its core. A scattered side-effect of casual drug abuse.

"This is um… Kuraudo… um…" Oh god he couldn't seriously be doing this, out of the corner of his chocolate coloured eyes I could see a fierceness that I couldn't disobey; holy shit I could already see his plan. What an idiot. And I was going to go along with it, I am the greatest contradiction.

"Sutoraifu," I interjected. "One would think you'd remember your own boyfriends name by now!" I flounced. Oh god, how could I be going along with this? I should have opted to wait with his motorbike. Or begged for cab fare, or gotten some one to draw me a map so I could get back to the familiar Eastern suburbs.

_Warning! Initiating DEFCON 4 all stations are to be alert and ready. Intelligence and surveillance to sector 7. Target acquired. Young male. Blonde. Short. Suspected insider. Code yellow, elevated significant risk. _

Zack cracked a goofy grin. It was irritating; here I was – the blonde -- and the young SOLDIER could get away acting like one.

"Sorry babe… Hey, its only been a week, and I thought we settled on using my last name anyway?" He joked and I forced a laugh, pulling myself into plain sight of the trio before me, throwing an arm around Zack's waist. I could feel his body tense. And I dug my nails into his side, a taste of my fury that would soon explode.

"Oh Zacky, how could I stay mad at you?" I looked into his dark eyes, I made sure he could see the burning hatred in mine, I was going to break every bone in his body. Shylock would have nothing on me, a mere pound of flesh simply would not do… I wanted his fucking head on a silver platter incrusted with fire ants and arsnic.

Revenge aside... Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal. Ho, ho, ho. I bet you're wondering all about them.

This trio was the backbone of METEOR, Metropolis Elite Taskforce (of) Engagement, Order (and) Restoration. Meaning it was their goal to get rid of scum like myself. Not that I knew it at the time. I could feel the vague nausea of being out of my depth.

I only recognised the silvery god like creature before me, then again who couldn't?

To call Sephiroth anything less then beautiful should have been a crime, seductive in the way that a single kiss from his pale lips could kill you in a matter of months, and yet with his skill he could have you slain five times before his lips left yours. Completely forbidden and so desirable.

He was feminine in his movements and had the grace usually reserved for 30's movie starlets. Sephiroth had something that you had to be born with in order to possess, it was beyond beauty in so many more ways. Not just beyond… but surpassed, even his most minute movements were defined by grace and restraint.

No small wonder he was the poster boy for ShinRa, seeing him up close gave me gooseflesh; when you meet someone that well spoken about you don't know where to look first. And little details strike you and send shivers down your spine. The silver haired man had a tiny freckle just above his lip on the upper left. I could not help but stare… And I broke my eyes away from it in shame, as his feline orbs laid themselves upon me. He had the eyes of a predator, evaluating his prey, the strange green-blue (not dissimilar to the colour of Mako) glittered with a hint of amusement. I almost panicked, I felt so sure he could see though our ruse. His aura was powerful in it self, invisible but very real.

What more fan service could you want?

As I said, Sephiroth was the poster boy for ShinRa. He was in charge of the Divisional Protection and Narcotics Agency with in METEOR. Or as those in the loop say the DPNA.

When I say in charge I mean, head honcho, nothing in his department got by him. Apparently… There is lots of important details I'm going to leave out, information about the General comes at a high price, and isn't easy to come by either… (But I know enough about Sephiroth to fill several novels. Just send me your questions, 300 gil for every sentence. Once a prostitute always a prostitute.)

Genesis was the next along, he was one of the most infamous lawyers in the whole of Gaia. During his services for ShinRa he had both Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth (both gallant experts in their field) at their knees crying, this is all in a single day.

"Heh, it seems that Zachary's memory is still as flawed as ever. Now tell me, what does Genesis start with?" I was immediately surprised by his seemingly good nature and clever tongue.

Genesis was gorgeous in a genetically-modified-way, like those beautiful big red shiny apples you can buy, straight out of Paint Shop Pro and rotten to the core. His perfect crimson locks had not a single hair out of place, and his cold eyes sparkled with laughter. An opponent not to under estimate. A glance could tell you that Genesis was in control, he didn't allow his human flaws to slip past his arrogant façade, he was an actor, dramatic and poised. Like a serpent ready to strike.

"Uhhh,' said Zack, pouting, pressing a finger to his pink lips. You could tell that he was acting now, it still made me cringe and I dug my finger nails deepen into the SOLDIER. "J wasn't it? Naw, kidding. G-man… You really need to get over that. It was only once."

I blinked stupidly, at what appeared to be an inside joke.

"Thrice. And on official paper work." But the flame headed SOLDIER just winked and gave a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Angeal, he was most defiantly the most masculine, which seemed fitting, he made up for Sephiroth and Genesis' sheer femineity. He was handsom, in a stoic no-nonsense kind of way, but gave no hint as to whether he was buying my act as his companions seemed to be. I could sense that it was unnatural for him to seem so tense. He raised an eyebrow and I felt his heavy eyes on me. My pulse raced and I could feel my pores tense with nervous sweat. Would these men really harm me if they found out the truth? Undoubtedly, they reminded me of dozing cats, at first glance they looked harmless, but really they were all perfectly poised and ready to strike unexpectedly.

Sephiroth was the brains, Genesis the law, and that left Angeal as the muscle.

He was head of the Shinra Police department, every droog and SOLDIER you saw out there was under his thumb. He was the lowest in terms of hierarchy but had the support of literally hundreds of stupid pretty boys like Zack, who owed their loyalty to him rather then ShinRa itself.

So lets recap. Sephiroth hunted the big time dealers, Valentine, Fenris, the De'Large brothers, The Family, Doctor Gonzo nutters to name a few, Angeal framed them and brought them down with his sheer strength and numbers, and Genesis made sure they ended up on death row or taking up space in prison. Got it? Good, then we can move on.

"Please, Zack, Kuraudo, take a seat," said Angeal, his voice was far to polite compared to his previously friendly tones and gestured with a broad hand towards a seat between the two god like creatures that were Sephiroth and Genesis. With an encouraging shove from Zack I took my place. Inside I felt sick, terrified. A sitting duck in a hunters convention. I pulled my left hand into the crisp sleeve of Reno's shirt, I could feel Valentines mark burning.

"Please, call me Cloud," I said gently as possibly, masking my fury and fear with immaculate manners.

Sephiroth folded his long white hands on the table top, evaluating Zack who now sat across from me.

"Well, Cloud, that is an interesting name," was the silver haired mans voice menacing or was it just a sudden rush of paranoia? "Where are you from?"

My lips parted and my mind raced, where the hell did the name Kuraudo originate from anyway!? Who the fuck would call their kid that, I got enough shit in school for being named after condensed vapour. Zack beat me to speaking, barking out all to quickly.

"Wutai!" Great, the Wutai war only ended three years ago, and before his days in the DPNA, guess who was a great war general? Famed in defeating the guerrilla terrorists across the continant.

'Way to go Zack, ten points, go team, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!' delicately I found his foot under the table and crushed his toes with my feet. If he felt it, it didn't show.

Instead Angeal gazed at me with morbid curiosity…

"Fascinating…" Murmured a bored looking Genesis, and he appeared to roll his eyes, resting his elbow on the table and cupping his chin on his hand. "If you don't mind me, now that Zack is here its time to get down to business."

I relaxed a little… Foolishly.

_Error: Data Corrupted, skip scene?_

_YES._

It was an entire hour later and a hot chocolate sat in front of me which I clumsily sipped with my right hand. Zack had relaxed completely, I couldn't tell if it were an act or not, and settled into the conversation between the deadly trio.

They spoke of complex things that at the time I didn't understand. Bored as I was, I was glad when the conversation had moved from myself and onto more 'work' related topics.

I only half listened to their strange chatter.

"How's the canary trap down in Edge going?" Angeal asked, his expression was one of extreme boredom, before him a mug of Echo Screen tea was clasped in his hands, already drained to the dregs, a hippy drink, highly addictive and apparently arosed your 'magic' ablities from their dormant slumber.

Canary trap:

A canary trap is a method used for exposing information leaks, you give a bunch of suspects slightly altered versions of a document and sit back and wait to see which gets leaked and then trace that document version to whomever leaked it.

"Not good… The Dirge files haven't made it to the press yet," Genesis said with the most bored expression. "It was a flawed plan to begin with, Valentine supporters would have known the information was faked no matter if it 'proved' his innocence or not."

Genesis was drinking an Irish coffee with a good douse of liquer, perhaps a bit to much for during the week.

"Wait, who were they given to again?" Asked Zack with interest. For once he seemed in his league, keeping up with this compatriots. He was drinking a strong long black with a double shot of cafine, and was on his second; Zack shouldn't be allowed that crap for obvious reasons.

"Tseng of the Turks, Reeve of course, the infernal Lucretcia woman…" Sephiroth answered his voice just as bored as Genesis. He was drinking a glass of sparkling white wine.

"What is most infurating," interjected Genesis. "Is that we know that Reeve has been supporting Valentine for years, we just can't pin him. No information. And no clue how they are communicating."

"What about the means of steganography?" Asked a suddenly interested Angeal who flew a dirty look in my direction. So far I had been ignored. It seemed that they were cocky enough not to care if I heard their conversations.

Steganography:

Is the science of writing hidden messages in a way that only the sender and the recipient would realize the hidden message.

Zack who was clearly as clueless as I was about this term threw Sephiroth a curious look.

But it was Angeal who answered.

"Secret messages, Puppy," I stared at Angeal with a sudden jolt of jealousy, I was taking my role as 'boyfriend' far to seriously, what was that about? The other two men snorted in amusement and I could feel Sephiroth looking at me again. Was there something that I was missing?

Nervously under the table I picked at the frail stitches in my hand and looked down at my drink again.

Zack, although blushing, ignored the comment.

Genesis shook his head, after throwing another curious glance between Angeal and I.

"We have looked over everything, shopping lists, paintings, coffee grains, we don't know how Reeve is warning Valentine of our movements or how he even knows them in fact."

I wondered myself, this all seemed far to surreal, especially after last nights drug trip. I couldn't help but think of the silly comics that Vincet starred in. How once he was warned of a long time plot to kill him by a man who had a message tattooed to his head and then let his hair grow back and then decapitated and sent to the gunman. I dosed off.

And then it hit me…

I am not an intellectual, but the answer seemed so clear I wanted to shout it in those smug faces…

_Warning! Initiating DEFCON 3 all stations are to be alert and ready. Secure call signs are to commence; intelligence and surveillance are not to take their sights off Target. Code yellow, elevated significant risk. _

I kept my lips sealed.

I'd solved Valentine's riddle, I was excited, but I remained poised. Genesis still spoke and he paid no attention to me.

"The whole of Gaia is on DEFCON alert 3, an over reaction on your part Sephiroth."

DEFCON:

The measurement used by the Shinra Government to measure the activation and readiness level of the SOLDIER and Turk armed forces. DEFCON 5 is the usual level during peace times, and DEFCON 1 is only initated when Gaia itself was threated by outside forces. DEFCON 3 is an increase force of readiness just about normal. All radio communication is changed to classified call signs to prevent interception.

Sephiroth only smiled and looked at Genesis with a wistful expression.

I tried not image their faces, if only they knew what I knew…

"There is no measure to extreme. I've been waiting my whole life to capture him…"

I smiled to myself and wondered, did they know that this Vincent was only the sadistic son of the man they spoke of? A man living in his fathers shadow with no real force under his belt other then his immoral almost vampiric name sake? The answer they were looking for was in plan black and white.

"Carpe diem," Angeal said with a smile.

"Seize the day?" Zack questioned, confused.

Oh come on…. I couldn't help but think.

But the red haired man shook his head.

"That's a poor translation, it means something more along the lines of 'enjoy, make use of, seize.'" His voice was almost challenging and Sephiroths smirk widened.

"I disagree," he said, his sounded blood thirsty, "'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may'."

I was confused, didn't Sephiroth and Zack mean the same thing?

Still it was a small unimportant matter, why couldn't they see what I see? Cloud, the dumb whore… Just ask me, I dared inside my head, I'd really give Angeal something to mope over.

Angeal and Genesis's grim expressions seemed to agree that Sephiroth was not making any sense and just contradicting everyone else.

For a moment everything was tense between the three men, yet Zack sat comfortably, enjoying the contrast of attitudes with the backdrop of the busy café.

And in a sudden all three men were chuckling almost breaking out into peals of laughter.

Their relationship was strange, to put it best.

I felt nervous with my new revelation on my shoulders and hoped that Zack decided to leave soon, I no longer wanted to part with this new knowledge. I could use it, it would be so easy...

The four once again began to chatter about the continuity of evidence, De novo's, and AVOS. I quickly found myself day dreaming.

It wasn't as bad as I had expected it to be, and completely not worth the drama between Reno and Zack.

Remember right at the beginning how I told you never, ever to forget our anti-hero, our dark Valentine? It must be hard because for the moment he was the centre of attention. But think. Its sitting right in front of your nose. Come on, really, really think. Hard.

Kitten, comic books, steganography, Valentine and Reeve.

Valentine Comics, they were communicating though Valentine comics. Think about it before you scoff. Those comics had been around since the fiends father started gaining attention. Sure they could investigate the comic makers studio, but they never found anything. But there was eerie contrast between the story line and events yet to come.

… Oh, I think I forgot to mention, other then being the mayor of Edge and leading Gaia's leading opposition party to Shinra (the WRO – World Regenesis Organization) he's also a comic book artist. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, Shinras METEOR to the WRO's HOLY (Head Order (and) Liaison, (and) Yielding).

Reeve Tuseti.

But really I had no time to dwell on comic book artists and their suspect ways… Because from across the table chimed dun-dun-dun-darrr-dun-dun-DARRR, you know that ShinRa victory tune they always used on the news, I forget what its called but I fucking hate, thankfully the polyphonic rendition didn't last long because SOLDIER reflexes are quick.

"Angeal speaking," At the time I just scoffed to myself at how rude it is to answer your mobile at the table. Sephiroth, Genesis and Zack watched with silent apprehension. "Of course, yes I'll bring him… We'll be… 10 minutes at best. Okay…" I panicked.

_Warning! Initiating DEFCON 2 all stations are to be alert and ready. Secure call signs are to commence; intelligence and surveillance are not to take their sights off Target. Increase forces in sectors 7 though 9. Prepare for maxim readiness. Code red, I repeat, code red, high risk of attack._

I was a sheep in wolves clothing, a sitting duck completely scattered coming down from a drug binge and of course in true fashion I'd relaxed to the point of forgetting that I did not belong here and despite the likely hood of these men buy Zack shady ruse if I'd survived this I would probably ripped apart by Tifa anyway…

There's this saying right? You probably know it, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire'? It was that kind of situation but more like out of the frying pan and into the deep freeze.

A well fitting saying, because after the handsome Angeal snapped his ShinRa issue mobile closed he immediately looked at Zack and spoke several fateful words that made my blood turn to ice.

"Theres' been a change in todays state of affairs," Zack swallowed and for the first time in hours glanced at me in anxiety, "The boys think there might be a traitor among us-" The dark haired man said slowly.

I stomped on Zack's steel toed boots once again.

"-With in the Turk's." I think it took a moment for both of us to recover from possible heart attacks. I swallowed. I might be safe but could it be possible that Reno… No I didn't dare to think it.

"We have to leave right now." And Angeal leapt up from his seat and he drained the dregs of his tea. I tried to nudge Zack's feet, what was going to happen to me?

But I promptly found they weren't where I thought they were. I was filled with dread, those weren't Angeal's boots I was kicking was it?

I paled.

"What about Cloud?" Zack said calmly glancing at me once again and focusing his eyes on his superior.

Sephiroth leaned back in his chair with an air of extreme amusement.

"I'll drive him," He smiled, which looked at lot more like a smirk to me but I wasn't about to argue.

"Will you now?" Genesis snapped coolly his eyes never moving from the silver haired General, who ignored his remark but continued to smirk his eyes fixed on the uncertainly rising Zack.

"I'd kiss your beloved good bye Zack," his voice was so menacing. "This sounds dangerous, you never know what might happen." My head spun that sounded like a threat and so much more.

Zack walked slowly around the table and put one hand on my shoulder and I suppressed an urge to flinch. I was suddenly filled with the bitterness from earlier in the day. He was such a patronising cunt, and he leaned down and kissed my neck softly and quickly. The look on his face showed that he was entirely humiliated, but I was more concerned with the fact that I could feel his dark eye lashes brush against my bare skin. It made me shiver. In a bad way _of course_.

"Now, now, I thought you two were lovers," said Genesis, his demure sulkiness had vanished. "Cloud," (I twitched it was the first time that Genesis had even paid the slightest piece of attention to me not to mention say my name) "stand up and give Zack a real kiss." His voice was high and mocking. Blushing, more infuriated then scared I trusted my legs to stand up and I turned to face the young SOLDIER shame burning on both our faces. With the ease of an expert I locked my arms around his neck and his hands flew to my waist I leaned into him once again, standing on the tips of my toes to reach his lips. I was immediately annoyed – he smelt like pear soap – and brushed his nose with mine focusing all my attention to my facial muscles keeping them poised and seemingly innocent – sweet would be the word. Our lips touched and parted for each other like familiar friends, unlike the night before there was no struggle for dominance nor lust or desperation, just tiredness. I let my eyes shut. A symbol of trust – I never shut my eyes for customers; and I allowed myself to calmly reach my touch into the soft coffee tasting confides of his mouth. Somewhere in the middle I lost myself. It was so comforting – kissing is the best kind of game. I confided in myself this is what I wanted one day. Someone lovely to kiss.

We broke apart when Angeal gave an impatient cough, embarrassed I let go of Zack hiding my face hide under my hair. Zack's arms remained on me for a second before hastily letting go – instantly I dropped to my seat. I knew he was confused – people who hate each other don't usually kiss like that. Wordlessly he ruffled my hair and left with Angeal. Sephiroth was the first to break the silence.

"Now, now Cloud, don't cry," his tone was almost enough to make me scream.

If I had been my self pre-Valentine I would be smirking thinking about how hard it would be to get into Genesis's pants and would have whispered "Truamatised homophobe?" Into Zacks ear. But tears gathered into the corners of my eyes as soon as Sephiroth said 'cry'. Zack wasn't the homophobe I had first met and loathed. Why had he changed?

Why was he so goddamn nice?

There had to be a plot going on and by the sounds of the three men who had once sat at this table – they were probably behind it.

I faked a giggle.

"Oh, I'm not crying. I'm sure my baby will be fine." I wondered if I was pushing it. Stretching the lie until it would snap.

"The funny thing is… Zack never told us about you until today," Genesis smile had too many perfectly while teeth. "And here we were thinking that he just liked to play around with Angeal."

"WHAT?" I couldn't control my out rage. But this was Zack. I bickered with Zack, I was cruel to Zack.

But then that fucking ring tone went off again and the smirking Genesis answered his mobile – identical to Angeal's in every way.

"I'll be right there," He said simply before shutting it, "It appears they need me at the court house." He started at Sephiroth.

I knew know that I had underestimated them all terribly.

"It appears its time to leave now Cloud," the silver haired man rose from his seat and watched as Genesis very rudely walked to the door throwing a look over his shoulder and the words "Au revoir," and was gone.

Bewildered I glanced at Sephiroth, all too confused why I was suddenly left alone with him. But he seemed not to notice me and began to leave the café, I hurriedly followed him. On the street he approached an illegally parked silver Kompressor (That a Levrikon as in the car darlings, like the monster from the fantasies) and unlocked it.

"Get in," he said finally, emotionless. I got more and more worried.

The inside of the car was dark as the paint job and it smelt faintly of leather cleaner. The man took great pride in keeping the million gil ride in perfect condition.

"I suppost it would be back to Seventh Heaven then?" He said lazily. "Oops." He wasn't convincing. The car started with a pur. Some how I wasn't surprised.

I took me that long to realise. This was the gun between my teeth. I was so fucked.

"So you knew all along…" I murmered.

_Warning! Initiating DEFCON 1 all stations are to be maximum readiness. All men to their stations. Prepare for attack. Secure call signs are to be used at all times; intelligence and surveillance are not to take their sights off Target. We have him in our sights. Forces at stations 7 though 14 be ready to attack on my order. Code red, I repeat, code red, I wish you all good luck…_

"Of course we did," he snorted in amusement.

"Are you going to kill me?" I kept my voice neutral. But the man merely chuckled and started to drive slowly.

"Oh no. There's a job for you yet."

"Valentine." I sighed.

Sephiroth smirked but said nothing.

"I don't know anything about him really."

"Oh there isn't anything about him that I don't know already," then, I wondered, what do you want with me?

I was scared. On the verge of pissing myself scared.

"Of course, in order to repay my colleagues, and I for our sparing your life, we have a little job for you."

I stayed silent.

Zack.

How much did he know about this? Was he the one who was behind it all along? Sephiroth said nothing and I did not dare to say another word. I stared out the window for a long time. The sepia tinted world outside the window didn't match the tense atmosphere in the car.

I started to recognize the suburbs around me. Almost home now, and I was still unbelievably calm. I must have been in shock.

"How much does Zack have to do with this?" I asked timidly and the man once again chuckled darkly.

"Everything and nothing. The others too, your little Turk friends."

"It appears that everyone works for ShinRa these days," I said bitterly.

"Even you, little Cloud, or do you like Princess?" He was laughing now and I was almost crying again.

He stopped the car and I knew where I was straight away. Sephiroth undid his seat belt.

And in a commanding tone said, "Show me your hand."

Bitterly I wrenched off the glove from my left hand and tossed it to the floor, Sephiroth snatched my sweaty paw and leaned over me. He laughed airly and carefree, dropping my hand.

I hated him. Zack, Reno, Valentine, and his disgusting trio. They were all beautiful men. People said I was beautiful. That's why clients came to me, they were never good-looking. Good-looking men could handle steady relationships. My clients were old, or rich, but all ugly. They rarely hurt me. And never as badly as these guys. I was attracted inexplicably to beauty, unable to escape its fatal whispers. I hated it. I loved it.

Sephiroth planted a soft almost air kiss on my cheek. Like a Mafia don on the cheek of a doomed henchman. It was the most subtle of threats. His lips didn't touch my flesh but my mind was screaming, _Geostigma!_

"Call me when Valentine shows up again, or you'll live to regret it."

I exited the car confused. What did he mean call him?

"Oh, and not a word to the others about what you've learned today…" I wondered if he was talking about the café or the car. I didn't feel like talking at all.

I had to go though the main entrance of Seventh Heaven, passing the gilded dragons and lush ferns. I was dazed and very confused, not to mention on the verge of a serious mental break down.

Had I been wrong all along? Wasn't the big bad guy really ShinRa? Surely Valentine wasn't the bad guy… Really?

The door opened loudly with an audible BANG. I hoped today Tifa was at her home nursing a headache from the night before. But no, as luck would have it, she was standing in the lobby… and I knew she was waiting for me. What made my blood freeze was Valentine – dressed simply in black dress pants and shirt with a crimson tie. They both stared at me before Tifa started to shout.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN YOU FUCKING SON-OF-A-!" but her shrieks were silenced with a chop of the devil's hand – who then slowly made his way towards me. Chuckling darkly while placing one hand gently on my shoulder, he stooped down to my ear whispering softly "I've been waiting for you Kitten," he said my 'stage' name so seductively-

The door flew open again I with another loud BANG and I turned around to see it was Reno; staggering, slightly blood stained and completely drunk. Disturbingly and amusingly Vincent, at the sound of the door, let go of my shoulder and his right hand flew to his hip resting above a .39 millimetre platimum gun; the make and brand was simply known as Death Penalty (the stuff of legends really, it had a limited release; only 200 ever made) made by the gun smith Cid Highwind himself. But what had disturbed me (especially when I had just started to warm up to the freak) is that he whirled around behind me. As if to us me as a human shield.

I shuddered but managed to give Reno a death stare; I finally had a valid reason to hate him.

Reno's usual shirt-and-jacket was open showing a smooth well muscled chest – and once again I experienced the same complex as I did in Sephiroth's car. I felt my breath hitch slightly, and for a moment was I drawn away and wondered if his SOLDIER buddy looked that nice underneath too.

But I dispelled those troublesome thoughts. Reno was a traitor.

The red head opened his big dumb mouth with a wicked smile, he must have been tripping on LSD because I could see a little yellow square of blotting paper on his tongue (the idiot clearly didn't know you can swallow it – then again he might have just took it) and while leering at us all said:

"Jesus Christ Tifa – its fucking bat country in here –YO!" and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Valentine just snorted and put one hand around my waist, leading me forcefully out of the room. I was sullen and compliant but I still attempted to sneak a glance at the advancing, furious Tifa.

Reno was fucked.

I, on the other hand, was about to be fucked.

But what I realized then, in all redundancy, was that Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, Zack… Well they never paid the bill at the Trembling Cup.

Pretentious is the word. I'm a fucking twat. Looking back at this day, hell, writing this its so obvious. I'm a pretentious little prat who needs an attitude adjustment, hell, even that sounds fucking pretentious. I hate retrospective insight.


	8. Small Town Boy, Runaway

(I'm so late for college, I'll make this QUICK. Sorry for not updating in ageees. I feel really bad bout that. Much thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and faved Venus. You guys are my heros!

Most of thanks to Tamara who beta-d this, at such short demanding notice, too. And Kyuubi who helped me sooo much with her writing demo.

Disclaimer: Squeenix owns Cloud n friends. Not me. )

--

Love is a very a very selfish state of mind. Just think about it. You love some one because they make you feel good about yourself, or they have the qualities you lack – possession results from love. You know those sassy Ed Hardy t-shirts? Glittering with rhinestones and fierce tigers, the famous bleeding heart, _Dedicated to the One True Love. _Ask yourself, go 'Gee wiz, who is my one true love? My mother? My lover? The milkman?' Fuck that. The only days you are capable of true love with another ended abruptly the day you started putting your hand down your pants… _Because it felt good._

But I'm about to contradict myself. I'm going to make myself look like a fool. A whore is for all the kids who can't get laid but can love enough to touch themselves. If that makes any fucking sense. I'm society's cure for all that bothersome morning glory. If there were no whores, you can just imagine all the fucking masturbation going down. Rape, it's not about sex. It's about power. Power is about release. Power is about control and stirring shit up. Chaos is where it's at, bitches, s-t-a-b-i-l-i-t-y is the fucking anti-Christ.

_Think I…_

What the fuck am I ranting on about? I don't even know anymore. Love, lust, rape, power. ARGH. I hate it all. Because all-of-the-above, I used to swear by my contrived, frail, _flawed_ logic; you can see it in everything I write. I want humans to be ruled by the simple hormonal logic known as dog-eat-dog. But the birth of my own love, love though so much shit, piss, pain, blood, vomit, has changed this Saul to a Paul. I can see it now.

_Love, I mean I…_

I fought myself, I still do now, cause the most abused statement in the English language it also the hardest to write.

_I… _

Ed Hardy also has another pretty catchy phrase, _Once Bitten, Twice Shy. _Is the bite worth the shyness? Or should we all wrap ourselves in bubble wrap and live in peaceful abstinence. Fuck it. Bite me, hurt me, rape me, defile me, but never forget me.

I love you. You know who you are. I love you and it hurts and I hate loving you. I hate the way you move; the way you breathe I hate the way you talk. I hate it when you touch me. My love is consumed by hatred.

How much different is love from hate? Write me an essay. Prove it to me in one hundred words or less. We tread a thin red line when we kiss.

_Do I hate you? Or do I… Do I… _

Go figure. I've read more theories and scientific explanations of love then you can poke a motherfuckin' Buster sword at. There is nothing you can tell me that I don't know already. Non-love? Liking? Infatuation? Empty love? Romantic? Companionate? Fatuous? Consummate?

No matter how many fancy words I can find none can match the fury and unabated hatred that burns me when I talk to you.

Are we ruled by _eros_? That magic feeling that makes you swoon, when you tell people, _this is my boyfriend._ Are we ruled by circumstance and situation?

Or is it merely _phileo_ a brotherly love we share that has some how become sexual.

Maybe it's _agape_ who binds us together with endless compassion.

But no fucking _bible_ is going to define us. I don't know who, but someone once said love makes us human. My hatred for you is my love, because somewhere along the line I lost that pure spectrum of human caring. Does this make me unhuman?

Teach me. Kiss me, hold me, fight for me. Do this once this for me. I'm twice shy and I need your bite to bring be back from the dead.

Do you know what Speedballing is? No? I shouldn't know what Speedballing is. In theory according to my age, I should still be in high school. Maybe I would smoke Phoenix Downs while at parties and sip some cheap scummy Midgar brew and fondle my dumb beautiful teenage girl friend.  
Speedballing is when you mix Mako, morphine, heroin and cocaine into the same needle. If you decided its necessary to smoke the shit its called Jenova Rocks – I don't fucking know why. It works like so: The coke hits you, real smooth and quickly, like the best fucking high you can afford, your heart is all BAH DUM BAH DUM BAH DUM. Then Mako slithers in on the sly and you can feel it rushing though your veins latching onto your white blood cells and sucking them dry – it's a good until the coke dissipates and that depressive sting of heroin starts to burn mixed in with the near nausea of good morphine. Your heart – well it ain't feeling so great, it's all slow like those romantic high school dances I've missed out on.

Now that you know what Speedballing is, does it make you happy? Does it fill that growing sense of unease building within your breast?

Fuck no it doesn't. You're biting your nails, thinking of the B-Horror movie star who is riding a completely different high as he scratches and clutches me.

You're definitely skimming past this looking for the juicy bits to grip your claws into; nothing I can write will make you feel the cheap sting of morphine and growing sickness and depression that comes with heroin. Hell, the mako plays a small role in this kinda hit – it's meant to quell those nasty side effects but it only enhances them.

I hate humanity.

Okay so here we go.

My room was numero sette, as in seven. Walking arm in arm with Vincent, I knew I had one and a half minutes to figure out my game plan. First of all, alliances in the near future were paramount. I had the choice of the Triple Alliance (Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal) or the Triple Entente (Valentine, Tifa and presumably the protection of the Turks). _His _name, _Zack,_ was barred entry to my mind. He was a stupid pawn. Nothing more. My brain ached. I would be Switzerland, neutral as all fuck, or aim to be anyway.

I would stand my ground and refuse to pick a side; Cloud would look out for Cloud. That being said, it was kind of crappy, the other sides had guns, me? My nails were getting pretty long.

I didn't want to fight _anyone_; I just wanted to get on with my life. It was all good pre-Zack, auto-pilot just works for me. That was an impossibility now. I wanted out.

I swallowed. Valentine's grip on my arm did not ease up.

I really wanted out. Move to some ass-fuck town like Nibelheim (fyi, did you know that Nibelheim is derived from the Norse word Niflheim, meaning village in the mist?), and once I got there I would make it up as I went along. Meet some girl, (I've had it up to my balls with men – no more) have some offspring and then some day die with out ever being found.

However abysmal that may have sounded I was prepared to do it, no one wants to be a tool for their entire life.

Oh the other hand, Vincent Valentine was now fucking me.

Insert-grunt, insert-moan, insert… whatever.

Valentine didn't seem to care that I couldn't get _it_ up from the moment he threw me onto the floor. He didn't care if the sticky floor boards scraped my bare skin as he nailed me, in fact he didn't seem to have the need to speak to me.

_Oh god, he knows about Sephiroth, doesn't he? _

I wondered what his infatuation with me was; I wondered if I really wanted to know.

I was confused, anguished and tired, still suffering from the night before. The rave flashed to my mind, I cringed involuntarily at the memory. Then Vincent _came_ with a strangled moan.

Bo-r-r-r-r-ing.

I knew he wasn't done yet. My life was lacking a lot of things. Namely the balls and the convictions to go though with my intentions, escape or no escape. I was a pussy and a push over. All bark and no bite – a hound dog that never caught a rabbit and was never, ever a friend of Elvis….

If I really wanted to be free of this all, I needed leverage. Blackmail. The word had never sounded so sweet.

But with what, and whom?

Valentine's arms were on either side of my head, he looked down at me – studying me. His face was serious as ever but the effect was lost on me, the fact he wasn't wearing any pants was almost amusing. Although he did have a rather nice shirt on, soft silk the colour of a shimmering bruise, purple but kohl at the same time.

The crime lord pressed his lips together and looked as though he was going to say something. I didn't allow him the chance.

"Your using the means of stenganography to communicate with Reeve Tuesti in Edge aren't you?" It sort of, maybe, slipped out. The thought of confronting him was deep within my mind, a stupid action.

His hand slapped across my right cheek quickly and he hoisted himself on to the floor sitting on his naked ass.

"Now, now little Kitten, who taught you that big word?" He scolded me like a child.

Free from him I pushed myself up, deciding that answering probably wasn't the best course of action.

Was this information as important as I thought it would be? Wouldn't Sephiroth and his Dream Team have investigated this ruse early on?

Could it really buy me my freedom? Would Genesis really be able to prosecute without any evidence to support my claim… Hold on, wait a minute. Ten points if you're thinking what I'm thinking.

"Was it your friend who stitched your hand?" He asked carelessly.

I swallowed, snapping out of my daydream.

This time he didn't wait for me to answer.

"It's been ten days since our last fateful meeting. Its time for those to come out. I trust that your little friend did it after I left," he gave me a smile that didn't reach his cold red eyes. "The stitch you have in your hand is a suture. There are three common types used by doctors and surgeons, the running stitch, the mattress stitch, and the common run of the mill stitch. But those are _wickedly_ beautiful; the vertical mattress stitch. Used by those trained by the Shin-Ra military corps."

The fucking asshole was just filled with useless information.

"How do you know all this?" I asked darkly.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that."

I pouted and sat and curled by arms around my body, tucking my hand away. I remember thinking _I'll remind Zack to take them out next time I… _I grimaced. _Idiot. _

Vincent sneered at me.

"To think, I suspected you would fear me, on the contrary, you're even more unabashed then last time I saw you."

_The fucking idiot, I'm practically shitting myself. _

I watched him as he slid his pants over his narrow hips, the rank motherfucker didn't wear any underwear, go figure. He stood pulling them up, and for a moment had this back turned to me, whilst putting on his tie.

"You're feisty, _Kitten_," he said, but I didn't hear the rest, my eyes were fixed on his wide back pockets. In one there was a kit bag – for you know, needles and shit, but my interest in that was vague, in the other was a expensive looking leather wallet.

_Hold on, wait a minute. Ten points if you're thinking what I'm thinking._

If I wanted blackmail the most ideal situation was looking at me. In fact, it was only just tucked into his pocket. That gave me one chance, one chance that I could not fuck up.

He was still blabbing as I rose, I stepped behind him, wrapping one hand around his waist and the other around his neck, my fingers teasing the soft skin of his chin. The other hand moved from his waist down the hem of his pants, he growled, words catching in his throat as my exploring fingers grasped and stroked. For the moment the sicko was putty in my hands, and I buckled my hips pushing upwards against his ass. The force was enough to send the wallet to fall from its resting place. It fell noiselessly on to my foot.

When the job was done he turned and I let my hands fall, as expected he had a knife in his other hand. My body reverberated in fear and I stepped back, my foot falling on wallet. With as much stealth I could muster I kicked the object behind me. I heard it slide, into what I thought was my slightly ajar closet.

If Valentine noticed it, he did not let it show.

"You really are such a spectacular creature," He said, in that soft, dangerous tone. "Such a shame…" _Wait, what? _"You think I didn't know about Sephiroth?" I swallowed and the gangster continued, amused by the look of shock on my face, "You really think you could hide such a thing from me?" _How the fuck could he know? _"You showed so, so, much promise."

He pulled the kit bag from his other pocket and withdrew a needle filled with a lightly glowing substance.

"V-Vincent, I-I have no idea what y-you're talking about, I would never s-say anything to S-S-Sephiroth," I stammered.

Reno? A bit of saving would be nice right about now. Come on man, no hard feelings. Help?

"So, so much promise," He squirted the air bubbles from the syringe, and with surprising speed he lurched forward and grabbed my arm.

"Pl-please! Don't! I s-s-wear to God..."

I'm no dumb apple; I knew my words were useless.

"Cloud, Cloud, I would have loved to fucked your sweet ass day in and day out, but seeing that our precious moments are about to come to an end, I suppose this good bye."

He shoved the needle into my skin, it fitted so smoothly and naturally it struck me that my skin was just a waiting sheath for the needle. He pressed down and my blood stream was flooded with a strange new sensation.

Speedballing.

As the before mentioned cocaine hit me and I crumpled to my knees, Valentine loomed over me, and the knife slid into my skin like butter.

Not one cut but two, then three, then half a dozen growing more and more, every where, none too deep, but deep enough to drain me. Me, the twitching drug fucked looser on the floor.

The motherfucker was speaking, I didn't grasp a word.

Zack, are you going to burst in impromptu and sexy to save the day? You've saved me twice now, how about third time lucky?

It struck me that all the people who might have once saved me had all been pushed away, obviously by me.

I gasped, "Venus… Wasn't I your one true love?" Talk about _emotional _blackmail. I don't know what I was thinkin' that kind of shit never works.

Vincent raised his knife and gazed at me, hostility burning in his eyes, but he said no more. His cruel work was over.

He stood with deliberate elegance, and walked to the doorway. There he paused, eyes glinting darkly,"Good night, sweet prince," he murmured coldly. And left.

Details start to get a little hazy here and disgusting, I was drenched with my own blood once again, and starting to throw up, gagging and slipping in my own gore. The walls started to change colours.

I couldn't help but think of the wallet in my closet. I had been so close. So close.

I was dying. The world grew hazy, but I fought to keep my eyes open.

More accurately, I fought, I bled, I spewed, I cried.

From the beginning Sephiroth must of known that I would have never rat him out to Vincent. On the other hand, he must of known that my demise was fast approaching.

I was the suicidal pawn: I wondered what the purpose my death would serve to Shin-Ra.

But I did not die.

You know in Medieval Europe they believed there was a plant that was like a lamb, or sheep, that was connected by an umbilical cord which was the stem of a plant. The sheep was like this plant's fruit or flower. It was all kinds of fucked up. The sheep fruit would just chill and graze and shit until all the grass around it was gone and it would starve to death.

When you're covered in a second skin of crispy dried blood, things like these become very important. But that's mainly because I was tripping absolute motherfucking balls.

Maybe it's abstract symbolism. I am quite lamb-like in appearance.

Back to more important shit. The eight-part Circuit Model of Consciousness (let's just call it the CMC) was coined by some psychologist called Tim Leary; the basic gist of it was, the higher up you are on the evolutionary scale of things the more of the CMC applies to you.

It could also be used to describe the various states of awareness I traversed through my trip.

_1. The Bio-survival Circuit.  
The world is one dimensional, forward to objects deemed as trusted, back away from danger. Pretty simple. _

I drifted in and out of consciousness. I was alive, a little cold maybe, but I felt no pain.

I seemed to have reached a strange peak, whether it was shock or the drugs, or a combination of the two, I had reached the state of mind that was like being reborn.

I was some kind of beast dwelling in its cave.

I was borderline bewildered There is a concept called the 'Mind At Large', drugs can take away the barriers that filter reality from fantasy, for the moment space and dimension were irrelevant. My mind could not confront my almost-death at the hands of Vincent. I acted on an impulse and I was egoless. I willed my body up and it unpleasantly made a ripping sound as I stood. I took no notice and looked down at my naked blood encrusted body, which cracked with my movements and looked like fish scales. I took two steps to my closet. Curiously my brain informed me that my state of nakedness should be dealt with, I put on my red silk dressing gown. My brain willed me to look at my feet. Vincent's wallet stared back at me. I picked it up, enjoying the feel of leather under my worn fingers. Shock shuddered through me.

_2. The Emotion Circuit.  
The mind starts to concern itself with emotion, and the world (which now has the conceivable elements of up and down) is split into submissive and dominant behaviour. _

I swallowed, I was flooded, over whelmed by a sense of accomplishment, all that pain and shit was worth it. If that over-lord felt like he could dominate me, _kill me _even. He could go take a hike. I would bide my time. One day everyone would be my submissive bitch slave, that day was sooner then I thought. Almost in my grasp. I just had to keep on going.

My trip felt as though it was waning, but that was just the morphine wearing itself down. I hadn't even felt the Mako, and was still well in the grasp of the heroin. But the return of a watered down sense of self caused me to feel more secure.

Let me tell you a little more about my own moral stance; I've been an individualist my entire life. It's the philosophy that presses the importance of independence and self-reliance. Admittedly I'm not a great individualist, most are rich with decent jobs. It's a stance motivated by the pursuit of self interest. Which is easy to say if you've got the money or the stability to do so. I on the other hand, was a little too preoccupied for the last seven years with living to worry about a disposable belief.

My individualism relates back to everything in my life. Hell even Valentine could read it own my palm, _"Jupiter. Religion, pride, respect. Saturn, Mercury, Lower Mars… Ahh, you're quite indifferent, aren't you?" _As an individualist you are by default opposed to any aspect of life that limits your actions and expressions as an individual. In politics it's called 'lassaiz faire'. If you are confused, our good buddy Ronald Scollon can help you out. He reckons that individuals can be defined by two points. One, the individual is defined by _what they are not_, and two, the individual is the basis of reality and all society.

I kind of almost agree with him. But I will leave that to dispute among yourselves.

After a few minutes of my brain getting used to the return of emotion, I snapped out of my daze. I slipped the wallet into my pocket (with the strange sensation that the 'other' Cloud would want it later) and then willed myself out of the room. It was early evening. So the boys were hard at work (heh, get it) but I felt no desire to hang in the hallway listening to staged moans. And with supposed purpose I moved down towards the shower block. A blushing business man brushed past me, staring with a glint of fear in his eyes.

In my delirious state I felt like a Godhead, he saw me for the dominant he-beast I was. Demyx poked his head out of his room, head draped around by the soft blue of his curtain. The colour was so… Never mind.

He-Beast. I would dominate. I would destroy. Nothing was safe from me.

"Jesus Christ Cloud!" He exclaimed quietly. "What the fuck happened?" I stared at him blankly. "Wait, dude, I don't want to know. Hey, I think Reno is still in the bath rooms, he's tripping something hardcore…" There was a note of concern that I would have normally disputed. By the look on Demyx's stupid face, he had realised that I was also not in a normal state. He hid once again behind the curtain.

And I continued my journey to the bathroom.

Once inside I was confronted by my blood spattered reflection.

_3. The Symbolic Circuit  
When hominids realised they were different from their primate cousins, they entered what is believed to be the third circuit. They developed a sense of left and right and dexterity related to picking up and handling objects._

There was just so much blood. My lips were split, bleeding, my check slashed, bleeding; blood seeping through my robe. So, so, so much blood.

It's taken me a while to pin down what happened next but, I think for you to understand it, you need to know about Psychogeography. Now that's a big word. It's the study of the effects of geography on the mind. I'm not implying that the dingy architecture of the bathroom caused me to realise a new and unexplored aspect of my imagination (which all good architecture should do, by the way), but I'll give you this quote.

"People can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves."

If the bathroom were a reflection of myself, I would be a fat toothless old woman, but it's not. It was the taps really. Every way that I touched them, their soft metal curves and the scrawny necks of pipes that lifted their heads like heavy flowers, was some how fascinating. I played with them; delighted by the way I could make the water flow, and how their shiny metal surfaces showed me a twisted world.

If I ever intended to clean my self, it never happened, I heard a sound from behind me. I turned and was met by a half drowned almost-lucid Reno.

_4. The Domestic Circuit.  
Is all about socialising, it came about when tribes did. Encouraging interaction. Morality and sexuality are two such elements that come to play with the realisation of existence, and, of course, time. _

My jaw dropped. The redheaded asshole was wrapped in shower curtains and under a cascade of water from several showerheads all pointed at him. His legs were bent and his combat boot clad feet rested on the walls. His jack was long discarded and his white dress shirt was see-through from the water.

"Yo! Are they gone?" He asked very seriously.

"What?" I croaked.

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"You must have fuckin' seen them!" He said with equal sincerity.

"What?" I repeated.

His brow furrowed.

"Do you speak English?" He asked.

"What?" I said even more confused.

"English, motherfucker, do you speak it?" And then he cackled. He was obviously a Pulp Fiction fan. "But seriously, dude! They were fucking floating octopus! Six-fucking -foot tall octopi! Probably a client into that hentai Wutai-shit, yo."

I observed him, and after a few moments I spoke, calm, unevaluated words.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU'RE WORKING FOR SPEHIROTH AREN'T YOU-" but I was cut off by a soaking Reno, launching himself at me pulling me under the freezing water.

He brought an almost blue finger to his lips.

"Shh! I can hear them. Fuck man, can't you? They are fucking speaking in that fuckin' weird-ass Wutai launguagelanguage and everything." He croaked, fear making his eyes grow wide.

Still not completely recovered myself I clung to his shirt, not even realising that I was on his lap.

I continued my lecture quietly.

"You're working for Sephiroth, Valentine tried to kill me because I am the He-Beast, and I will one day rule the world." I told him in all seriousness.

He stared at me, and then nodded.

"I can fucking see it dude," he informed me, nodding vigorously.

"Then you will be spared."

Reno continued to observe me with his viridian eyes,eyes; I promptly informed him that I liked them.

I think this is only single moment he and I got along. Our egos were replaced by paranoia of the world's attempt to have me done away with and his rapist six foot octopi.

To justify what happened next, I think its time to inform you over the next level of the CMC.

_5. The Neurosomatic Circuit  
This is circuit is recognised as part of the right-brain and supposedly inactive in most humans. It's the circuit that some day will be used in space travel; and is also associated with eroticism. _

In my mind, I had reached a far off state that I should have never strayed into. My brain isn't equipped for such matters.

Everything in the room felt like it was suspended in the air, if the air was some kind of see see-though, air -tasting jelly that is. I could see the stars, that glinted though the quagmire around us. The water turned into a single bolt of suspended animation. I fell on to my back off Reno's lap laying shell shocked in the icy water that resembled silk in every way, and I didn't even notice the Turks' hand slipping under my sodden robe.

I guess because he didn't pay, neither should you. But fuck. Don't expect me to graphically describe yours truly being jerked off by him, my most loathed enemy.

His touch caused me to moan and arch my back in the most sensual way, and but before I had reached my climax I sat up back onto his lap, shoving my crotch onto his and spreading my legs so one was on either side of him.

"_My name is Buck, and I'm here to fuck," _The film reference was not lost on him and he leered and licked his lips in a moment of caution. The nausea that came with sitting up over powered me and I fell back on my back, and Reno was above me much like Valentine was before.

I grinned. But the redhead didn't.

"You are a fucking kid," He said each word with bitter sadness. I just looked at him stunned. "A fucking kid, whom Zack would jump in front of a bridge for."

Was that supposed to make sense? I think he meant truck, but it is Reno after all. It is healthy to give him the benefit of the doubt.

_6. The Neuroelectric Circuit  
The mind begins to become independent from the body. Enables telepathic communication. _

After that he didn't touch me and I pulled my robe around my body again. The nausea abated and I almost got up. I was feeling far too apathetic to do so however. Of course my thoughts were on Zack, I was infatuated with the man. His kindness, his unexpected temper, his easy trust, his kisses. I closed my eyes, picturing him, undressing him. But it wasn't satisfying. I don't know if you could call it telekinesis. But for a moment I could see all that the dark haired man was seeing. A boardroom? There was shouting, a silver man gloating, and a sense of being deceived. I feel asleep.

When I woke up most of the lights were out, and so were the showers. I wondered if the redhead had turned them off himself or the water had given out. I no longer felt possessed by the He-Beast, and I was in a huge amount of pain, magnified by the bone chilling cold.

The redhead was awake and propped up against the wall.

I moved curiously closer to him, wincing in pain.

"Reno?" I whispered, nudging him softly with my good hand. His eyes were open and glossed over, he turned his head to face me. I could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Weakly he pulled me on to him once more and I curled against his hot flesh.

"My brother is your age," he whispered with a smile, but he didn't look at me. I rested my woozy head on his shoulder. "The whole reason I became a Turk was so he wouldn't end up… on the streets," his murmur was weak and strained. "… I thought I could protect him." His voice grew even more faint. "I failed." The Turks' eyes shut slowly and I found myself slipping off again.

_7. The Neurogenetic Circuit  
The mind can now access genetic memory contained in data, connecting it to memories of past lives and the collective unconsciousness. _

I dreamed I was a Nordic Viking sailing the bitter ocean. I dreamed I was a female yoga teacher who killed herself. I dreamed I was a half starved teenager who sold his body for a living and was in for a world of trouble.

_8. The Psycho-atomic Circuit  
Lets humans operate outside of predetermined space-time and relativity. _

Suffice to say the CMC may start off logical. But mostly, its rubbish.

Since that night I have always contested reality.

Maybe it's not you I hate. Maybe it's me. All this senseless prattling on about masturbation and love. I truly have no idea what's going on in my head – I just fucking wing it. Make it up as I go along.

Help me.

Or at least tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to be.


	9. Chapter 9

(Guys I'm back, what this space. I have good things coming your way. Ps. Missed you all!)


	10. Twin Skeletons

(Hi -hides-. Better late than never eh? Sorry guys. I love each and every one of you. If you'd like to beta just drop me a line. Its 4am, its full of mistakes, but I want to give it to you as is. Also I few of you asked to borrow concepts I made up in this, GO FOR IT. I so wanna read your stories. In fact if you don't like where I'm going write where you think it should be – or write Zacks POV. I'm sure he's got interesting stuff to say.  
I'm sorry this is so late. The last few years have proven the death of my childhood, I'm an adult now, my dreams have collapsed and i'm on to reality. Which I guess this reflects a lot. Love you all xx)

Ah happy he, who thus in magic themes  
O'er worlds bewitch'd in early **rapture dreams**;  
Where wild enchantment waves her potent wand  
And fancy's beauties fill her fairy land.  
Where doubtful objects strange desires excite,  
And Fear and Ignorance afford delight.

George Crabbe

Like the phoenix I am reborn though ashes.  
Fire is such a fine gown, nothing cleans better; it melts flesh like buttery fat. Each layer curling away from the knife.  
The city scape rushes past our windows, I look out a sleek curve of glass, a fish in a bowl. For a moment I am paralysed with anxiety, between the flutter of my eye lids, I'm forgetting reality; its the dream again.

We are going somewhere, somewhere important, outside the city sleeps like a restless cat, windows illuminated, glowing with unwelcoming light that pools on footpaths, reaching out from doorways. Stores, empty, little more than back drops to a sinister means, a sinister end; neon lights that are poison-sweet eyes waiting for our vehicle to slow.

Green  
lights.  
Never ending.

Rain  
drops-

across the windows, mouth watering jewels; not a soul walks the pavement and I feel so alone. I could turn my head – there are people in this car, I could see them and anchor myself back to the firm mire of reality (Gaia? Hope?) but I push myself to hold on to this state.  
Something is holding me onto this dream of a city, I came here, I'm looking for something. All these places full of glittering momentary brilliance, empty as an egg shell, shattering into inconsequential mosques. What I'm looking for has already passed.

Red  
light.  
I don't want to go back.

"Cloud!

CLOUD!  
Wake up we have to go-"

Heat purifies better than water, it returns all back to mother, -

"Jesus Christ! Please, for the love of fuck get up!"

Earth.  
Gaia – mother of all heavenly gods, pure and impure.

_Common symptoms of shock (see; acute stress disorder) include the depersonalisation of events (oh god I can't be burning, not me, Ifrit in heaven guide me), flash backs, detachment (the city, she growls and stretches in her clammy sleep – her foul paws swatting at me) and dissociative amnesia. Symptoms can last for a maximum of... Here we are again. _

I am born though fire, or perhaps I die. There is little either way- simply reflections in a mirror, down a rabbit hole (if you can forgive an overused cliche); the city passes my window, a million tiny details I'd like to observe more closely, gone like a dream – places that would not be alien to my childhood fixation, black ink on cheap white paper that felt more like cloth. Vincent would swagger down there streets, the edges of his cloak bringing a tinge of justice to the shadowy bowes. But its too late. I've missed him.

Voices.

"What the _fuck, man. _The fuck!" "Hurry up, get him in the fucking car!" "He's fucking... oh my god, oh my-" "ENOUGH – car now!"

Vincent Valentine. Words to be studied. Familiar.  
A lifetime ago I would threaten people who raised their hand to be violence that he would avenge me; when really I was the one to be avenged, when this story ends you will see how this is all my fault. How the only villain was me alone, the once snot nosed child clutching his mothers skirts crying for a return to innocence. I sicken myself.

My eyes open, pain is no longer alien to my bones, every part of me screams with it. I'm wrapped in something, its hard to tell if its keeping the pain out or keeping it in. I'm propped on someones lap, I want to move my arms. _I deserve this. _  
"Can you hear me Princess?" Reno's voice is hoarse, issuing from chapped lips, I look at him, and I remember.

_Do you know what people mean when they refer to interobjects? Its the combination of two items in a dream, you know what I mean, its a concept so old within yourself, you've known it since you could dream. Like those apples, their green faces reflecting a million impossible angles of the word teapot. The raven and the writing desk. Reality lacks that dimension, everything is just purely literal, so one sided. With the exception of flame._

I'm not sure how the fire started, I have theories, many, however one I can put aside is anything to do with my own self obsession. Last I remember is curling myself onto Reno's shoulder. Listening to someone else's problems – reflecting on our combined misery as we both rode messy come downs from substances we should have learnt not to trust long ago.

_Fires begin when flammable material such as a black mink fur coat, meets with a source of heat for instance, a Phoenix Down slim 12mil cigarette in an oxygen rich whorehouse. Typically this is known as the fire tetrahedron. In the right conditions and quantities fire is bound to follow, growing like a hungry beast dragging its belly. The dream, does it stop.  
_  
The dream world, it flickers and untangles, glimpses of reality are allowed through the fraying threads. Reno swims in and out of focus, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  
For a moment its hard to tell whether or not he's a plot device. He is obeying the laws of the dreaming, flexing and warping.

The fire dragged it knuckles down the hallways, consuming, putrefying, purifying all that it devours. They all scream.

_So how about post traumatic stress? What can you tell me about that? It can be caused by all kinds of trauma, whether experienced or observed, it can create intense reactions ranging from fear,horror, helplessness. Can you feel it now? Eating everything.  
Soon_

_you_

_will_

_have_

_nothing_

_left_

_worth_

_having. _

The time was early, not the kind of time you'd expect for a fire; when the world sleeps so soundly and the morning still a distant dread. It could smell me, attracted to my indulgences, sniffing, following foot prints of dried blood.

And when it

found me it

grabbed with

jealous hands.

_First we will take your beauty, for you have little left, then we will take your heart, tis unused anyway, then we will _"...take you to the hospital, did you hear that Princess? We can't take you to the hospital, there are fucking SOLDIER crawling ev'rywhere."

I was burn, damaged, hurt, and I felt betrayed, cradled by a semi lucid Reno, whose face was burnt by two curious swipes under his eyes; he has saved me from that which I wanted most selfishly; to be saved by a stupid man who carried my heart. Betrayal or none I wanted Zack badly enough to face death, complete consumption.  
I hardly knew him, nor did I really want to know him, I want his abuse and hatred and anger raining on my skin. I wanted to be worthy enough of his wrath.  
I tried to speak, a confusing collection of syllables rushed from my chapped mouth.  
"Fuck, kid, don't fuckin' speak, we're going to see my little brother. Its a fuckin' bad idea but we aint got no other choice, yo."

The worst part about drugs is the high never lasts, no matter what, at some point you have to come back. Come back to the shitty wallpaper, the up turned toilet seats, stale bread and your right hand. I felt no pain because I clung to the edges of a fast fading high, the dream within a dream. Delicious reprieve.

Everything

faded.

To black.

Restless sleep overtook everything.  
Who knew.

The car pulled into...

_When I was a kid I used to get so lost in fantasies that I'd forget myself. Wrapped in layers of muslin, memories wafting like smoke. I was Vinnie V's side kick, dashing across roof tops shootin' badies. I was rich, speeding down highways in AMG _Levrikon_. I would find my father and suddenly everything would be come clear and I'd find myself, then shoot the cunt.  
Its so hard to come back to reality, pinching yourself don't cut it after a while, pain is just tap messages to the brain, oh shit something is going down boss! Better get that hand off the hot plate.  
I digress, I am a lie gift wrapped in gilt. I'm Holden-fucking-Caulfield (Hey! Lets kill John Lennon!). _

_Pain everywhere. But a different kind of pain, not the dull ache associated with drug withdrawal. It's the sharp stinging shit that eats away at the bottom of your belly. One thousand lacerations zigzagging across your body like it's the mother fucking interstate highway at peek hour. Pain that comes in waves, each one worst then the last ripping up your conscious mind into ribbons. Pain changes you like nothing else, it's the only time you can realise how alive you were.  
I never noticed before but Rude smells like Juicy Fruit and washing powder, he's holding me like a floppy rag doll in his arms swaddled in a sheet. Reno is collapsed on the floor drenched to the bone and laying in what appears to be a pool of blood. My blood. Its everywhere, hand prints smudged across the walls much like prehistoric cave art, and I was drenched in it. Like a lizard shedding its skin except a million times more grotesque because the crimson fluid cascaded down my back dripping onto the floor, was soaking into Rude's cheap woollen suit. Reno's on the phone to someone, I'm not sure who, he's screaming, balling his hands into white knuckled fists with anger. I could see it all.  
I was having what people call an out of body experience, I could give you all sorts of scientific explanations but really they are all bullshit. Its like the best prolonged orgasm you've ever had. You're just floatin' there an inch from heaven and hell not giving a flying fuck because you're having such a good goddamn time being all weightless and floaty and shit._

Even pai good.

_ …a_ warehouse. It was dark, a man-no, a boy almost my age stood there – a shit eating grin adoring his face.  
"Hey bro, been waitin' for you. Bring him in."

_Axel Sinclair, brother of notorious Turks Mercenary, Reno Sinclair. Founder and leader of the infamous hacker/terrorist group known as Organisation XIII. Last seen three years ago after he was accused of the brutal murder of the well known Wutai Resistance leader Yuffie Kisaragi._

I

woke

up,

gasping stale air through my lungs, my whole body trembled drenched with swear, ringing ears met with sickly sweet silence. I was in pain, more pain then I had ever experienced. My mind was blank, distressed with the loss of identity and memory. I raised my right hand and ran it across my chaffed lips to the tip of my nose and then the soft skin of my cheek. Careless digits met sutured flesh and a bolt of stinging hurt ran up my spine. Tears of confusion and grief flooded my eyes and in a moment of clarity a name rolled off my dry swollen tongue.

"Tifa…" the room was dark and even in the silence my hoarse words were lost, engulfed in negative space. "Tifa!"  
I was in my room right? It was dark, a client must have gotten a head of himself… I'd be fine, she'd tell me what was going on.

"_Tifa!" _

_A scream finally spilt from my aching mouth and from the gloom came a hushing noise and a famiular voice. _

What would Zack say? Something shitty like 'Living life with the uncertainty that one day you're going to wake up and it was all a dream is the poorest way to live.'

_It was my voice. _

(I really wanted Cloud to over come some of his ego, I wanted to show his slackening grip on reality, how about it, did I do ok? Next chapter contains some tasty things like sensory deprivation, ego, why you don't get between the Sinclair boys, and hopefully some proper character development for Zack Fair.)


End file.
